


Death of the Bridegroom

by poetryboy



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Attempted Murder, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Violence, Corpse Bride AU, Dark Fantasy, Dark Romance, Falling In Love, Gore, Gothic, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, NOT between the main ship!!, Victorian era aesthetic, halloween fic, minor side pairings, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2020-10-25 10:12:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20722517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetryboy/pseuds/poetryboy
Summary: Hair blue like summer's sky and eyes the color of brightest sapphire, his bride-to-be is easily the most beautiful woman Demyx has encountered. He definitely shouldn't be this distracted by an old portrait of a long-dead war general, whose eyes seem to follow his every movement...





	1. According to Plan

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one shot, y'all!
> 
> It's almost October so that means it's basically halloween, right? I was planning on being a reasonable author and finish my other WIP before starting this, but I'm stupid like that, lol. I am a sucker for all things grim and creepy, and though it's a bit of a cliche, Tim Burton's Corpse Bride is one of my all time fave halloween movies. The film's hero also reminds me of Demyx in a way, which was one of the reasons I saw this pairing very fitting for this AU.
> 
> The aesthetic of this story is heavily influenced by fairytales and Victorian era, but it is nowhere near meant to be an accurate description of any specific time period! 
> 
> Also, there will be some rather disturbing and dark themes ahead, so please check the additional warnings before reading and tread cautiously. And hopefully enjoy?

* * *

_O Rose, thou art sick!_

_The invisible worm_

_That flies in the night_

_In the howling storm,_

_Has found out thy bed_

_Of crimson joy:_

_And his secret love_

_Does thy life destroy._

_ **\- The Sick Rose, William Blake** _

“Demyx, darling, are you listening to me?”

It wasn’t his mother’s nerve-wrecking voice scolding him, rather than the sudden bump on the road that had Demyx snapping out of his dormancy. He darted to sit up straight from where he’d just been drooling against his hand, a tad too abruptly for it to appear convincing.

“Of course I am! You were saying…” He trailed off. The steady, mind-numbing rattling of the carriage below felt like a clock ticking, a countdown to the inevitable doom that was his mother’s incoming meltdown. Demyx looked about him unsurely, as if the answer could be found from somewhere within the dim, lantern-lit carriage. “Pssst, help me out here a little, would you?” He then aimed his hushed plea to a servant girl sitting in front of him from the corner of his mouth, but his mother was having none of it.

“Heaven help us! What is going to become of this”, she sobbed in dismay against the laced handkerchief she summoned from the pocket of her coat. “My poor, poor son, a bachelor for a lifetime!”

“Milady, please be mindful of your blood pressure…” The timid servant girl frowned, rummaging around her pouch and fishing a pocket-sized fan from there, which she started waving at her mistress’ direction.

“And you be mindful of your place, _girl!_”

“That’s quite enough, mother”, Demyx snapped to chastise the overwrought woman. “There’s no need to take out your frustration on Naminé like that!” He groaned, adjusting the collar of his form-fitting attire he was sure would tear if he made a too sudden or animated movement. For the sake of maintaining his mother’s mental wellbeing, it was clearly the time for Demyx to put on his disguise of a respectable young gentleman and act as though he had the slightest of ideas about what he was doing here. He reached to seize her glowed hands in a reassuring gesture, as he spoke in calming voice. “I understand you're feeling nervous, but we have to calm down if we wish to make a good impression on those people.”

“The _Count_, Demyx”, she cried out in exasperation, squeezing her son’s hands so urgently that Demyx feared his bones might pop. “It is the _Count’s_ daughter you are about to start courting!”

“Yes, I am aware! And I will be on my best behavior”, Demyx stood his ground, though his mother’s crazed, bloodshot eyes fixed on him didn’t make it very easy. “You need to have more faith in me. I promise you; it’s all going according to plan.”

A moment of tense, uncomfortable silence, until a somewhat calming breeze seemed to brush past her and her rigid composition softened. “Well, I suppose it is all there is to do, is it?” She sniffled into her handkerchief. Reclaiming her grace to her best ability, she dapped at her haggard face delicately and accepted a glass of sherry that Naminé poured her. A while of quietly picking up her nerves with the help of liquor and calm, deep breaths, she cleared her throat, as though to signal that her nervous breakdown was cancelled for the time being. She settled casually back to scolding her son about the _do's _and _dont's _of courtship like she hadn’t just been on the verge of losing it altogether. “And while you’re there, darling, remember to not get too picky on the food. No fair lady wants to get married to a string bean. Have I told you of the time your father started courting me? Poor thing was so thin I feared a breeze might snatch him away from me…”

Demyx too meditated back into his previous mental place, located deep within his own thoughts. Though, this time he was mindful about feigning concentration on his mother’s babbling a bit more convincingly. Nodding along when he felt it was due, he allowed his eyes to steal a glance through the window.

They’d been traveling for hours by then, and as soon as the bustling streets of busy seaside town had changed to a narrow trail leading deep into the darkened woods, the world on the other side of the window remained unchangeable even as the carriage kept clattering onwards. Though his humble hometown by the sea wasn’t exactly a metropolis, Demyx was a city boy through and through, and couldn’t help but worry whether he'd be cut out for a life at the countryside. As excited as he was about getting to meet his future wife (the excitement had subdued somewhat as he learned she resided in the middle of nowhere), he already dreaded the idea of having to adjust to his mantle as a young countryside lord. He sure hoped there wouldn’t be any neighboring noble residences nearby, as Demyx very much didn’t see himself proving his masculinity by hunting or playing golf with a bunch of some utterly boring and self-important gentlemen.

He’d had little (if any) say in regards of his courtship to the Count’s daughter, which had actually been quite fine by Demyx. Marriage, as his mother had taught him, was nothing but a business bargain; a perfect spouse was the one whose family had the best dowry to offer, nothing to wax poetry about. Despite this apathetic willingness to indulge his mother's wishes, Demyx could’ve been described as a dreamer of sorts, but instead of being romantic, Prince Charming kind of gentleman, he was rather a _‘thoroughly lazy and comfort-seeking pansy’_, to quote his late father. To have the Count himself willing to give his daughter’s hand to a man like him was surely a once in a lifetime occurrence, and though Demyx might have wished for a chance to find a love on his own, even he had to admit it wouldn’t do to turn down an offer like that. Becoming a part of such wealthy family was surely his one-way ticket to a nice and easy life. For heaven’s sake, he’d basically just won the lottery!

Demyx’s mother, an heiress that’d inherited her parents’ fish factory, wasn’t too well-adjusted in running a company, and lately the family business’ income had went downhill to the negative. A good name and spotless reputation weren’t enough to bring bread to table, and it had just started to seem they’d have to swallow their pride and start adjusting to a life as working class citizens, when the Count had approached them with a letter. It just so happened, that Demyx appeared to be the only available bachelor of a noble background nearby, and the poor, aging Count was afraid that his only daughter would end up a spinster, if he didn’t find a suitable young gentleman to make an honorable woman out of her soon. But, it wasn’t too late to blow up his chances and get turned down, so Demyx quite agreed with his mother’s fussing about the importance of a good first impression.

Idly summing up these thoughts while staring out the blackened world behind the window, his train of thought got interrupted by the nervous energy he could feel floating within the carriage.

“What is it, Naminé?” He asked the mousy maid, whose face had gained a worried frown.

“Nothing to worry of, Milord”, she managed in tiny voice. "It is a silly thing, anyway."

“Surely not”, Demyx prompted gently. He had taken a liking to this sweet and kind maid, who worked hard and endured the Matriarch’s tyranny with patience, the warm smile upon her delicate face rarely faltering. So, when she suddenly appeared so visibly distressed, it made Demyx feel worried of her. “It’s okay. You can tell me if you want to.”

“It’s just… this place-“

“Speak up already, girl! We haven’t got the whole evening!”

“Mother, please”, Demyx groaned. “Give the poor dear a breather. Can’t you see how clearly shaken she is?” He offered a reassuring smile to the girl, who seemed to sit a little taller by the encouragement she received.

“There is something strange about this place, Milord. I have this feeling…” She glanced warily at the Matriarch sitting beside her, but by some small miracle was able to find courage to finish her sentence. “Like something is going to happen. Something _terrible_.”

“That something will be my darling son’s marriage, if he chooses not to man up soon”, Demyx’s mother sighed at that, surprisingly unhostile towards the vague worries Naminé just shared with them.

In no mood for creating a new argument, Demyx merely scoffed at his mother’s statement. He settled back to watching as the raindrops started poking holes into the all-consuming silence outside, dropping against the glass with hypnotizing rhythm.

An unexpected shadow threw its curtain upon Demyx. Naminé’s words had honestly speaking left him a bit anxious. She wasn’t the kind of girl to dare to say out loud something so strange with no reason, and she also tended to get these little… visions? Omens? Whatever they were, Naminé’s ominous predictions proved, without a fail, almost always astoundingly accurate. Like that one time at the market street nearby the town’s main port, where she’d suddenly said they needed to move to the other side of the street, and immediately as they did, a monstrously huge grand piano rolled down just where they’d stood few minutes ago, smashing few unfortunate citizens into human pancakes.

A shiver run upwards Demyx’s spine. Gloomy dance of the crooked, leafless branches in the middle of the unforgiving darkness held a promise of something yet to unfold. What could Naminé’s doomful predictions mean this time around?

💀 💀 💀

Something quite terrible did occur pretty much immediately after the chauffeur rode their carriage through the enormous brass gates and into the yard of Count Eraqus’ estate. Clumsy to the bone as he was, Demyx managed to get his left foot stuck on the carriage step and ended up flying nose-first to the ground.

Luckily this happened before a pair of dapper young men, probably butlers of some sort, appeared to greet them. His mother’s murderous hissing about what she’d do if Demyx didn’t get up on his feet at once, was a rather good motivator for quickly reclaiming his footing. The taller one of the servants, a handsome and well-toned brunette somewhere around Demyx’s age assisted the womenfolk to step outside of the vehicle, as the much shorter and baby-faced blonde announced a brief welcoming speech for their newly arrived guests. By then Demyx had succeeded in pulling himself together and was able to stand at least somewhat tall before his future father-in-law’s house staff, greeting them like the proper young gentleman of his mother's dreams. The younger one of the servants, Ventus, led them inside the estate. Demyx felt quite sorry for the little fellow, as it seemed his mother wouldn’t leave the poor boy alone with her demands to meet the Count and his daughter.

“Forgive us, Milady. I can assure you that Master Eraqus will see you shortly. He left for an urgent meeting with the Mayor of Twilight Town, and has yet to return. He sent his humblest apologies for this unforeseen absence and instructed us to give you a tour around the estate while he's away. Of course, with your permission, Milady.” Ventus bowed deeply while explaining the circumstances at hand. Though how professional he appeared, Demyx could detect a nervous undertone in his boyish voice. This was no wonder to Demyx; even the most respectful lords and ladies tended to falter before the frightful Matriarch.

“Let me get something very clear, young man”, she hissed, daring to even poke Ventus between the ribs with her umbrella. “Count or not, it is disrespectful to keep your guests waiting like this, let alone the one courting your daughter!”

“Mother, you’re being unreasonable”, Demyx muttered through gritted teeth. It sure was rich how she scolded and chastised him about the pettiest things, while she herself had the audacity to act so rudely. Like she was anything but an elderly Lady, who was considered _Old Money_ for her family name, but in reality, had already lost half of her fortune by playing her cards so poorly.

“Where is the young lady? I wish to see my daughter-in-law at once!”

“With all due respect, Milady, there is no need for violence. Lady Aqua, currently she is…” Ventus, clearly starting to crumble under pressure, exchanged ambiguous glances with his colleague. “I will go find her immediately. If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Milady, Milord…” Accompanied by series of brief, apologetic bows, he speeded out of the scene, long tail of his suit flapping in his wake.

“Our deepest apologies. Lady Aqua is that of a livelier side, and it might take a while for Ventus to reach her”, said Terra, the remaining servant boy who’d helped Naminé and the chauffeur to carry the aristocrats’ belongings. “You must be tired after such a trying journey. Shall I show you to the guestrooms, where you can unload your luggage and prepare for the dinner in peace? I am sure Master Eraqus and Young Lady will arrive to host you in no time.” Terra's more suavely charming approach seemed to please Demyx’s mother way better than Ventus' awkward squirming.

She giggled girlishly against the back of her glowed hand, like a tween receiving attention from someone she fancied. Demyx felt a little like dying right on spot from the face-heating embarrassment. “What a marvelous idea! It is good to see someone in this dreadful household has proper manners.”

Terra then proceeded to guide them through the dimly lit grand hall and towards the intersecting staircase leading to the upper balcony overlooking the ground floor, which undoubtedly led deeper into maze-like corridors of the estate. Demyx treaded evenly at the tail of his mother and Terra, who appeared to be chatting about this and that, intentionally walking with slightly slower pace so he wouldn’t have to put up with his mother’s disturbingly exaggerated cackling at every supposedly funny thing Terra was saying. He’d managed to meditate himself into a coma-like lethargy, where his feet moved mechanically along the lightly illuminated, narrow corridors, when suddenly, out of nowhere, every single withered feeling under the rug of apathy rushed back to surface within Demyx. His feet came to an abrupt stop. Following his instincts, Demyx turned to look at his left.

And what was it that he saw?

It was a man. Or rather, a portrait of a man. One in a long line of unexciting paintings of important-looking noblemen with flamboyant wigs and expressions like they’d just eaten an entire lemon. But the one that’d demanded Demyx’s attention with a metaphorical snap of fingers, looked anything but boring. No cotton-candy of a wig covered his ebony hair flying wildly behind him, and instead of appearing sour to the soul, a wide, almost cocky smile was plastered on his rough face. Demyx wasn’t that informed on anything military related, but the uniform the man in the portrait wore suggested he was a soldier of some sort. Probably that of higher rank, too, if the cluster of shiny badges attached to his puffed chest were anything to go by. For a man of such status he was portrayed in quite a barbaric light; where the other captains and generals appeared calm and sophistically conservative in their illustrations, this one looked like he could be found on a cover of one of those silly romance novels Demyx knew his mother secretly read. One glowed hand rested on his narrow hip and an enormous crossbow was braced over his shoulder, while he posed like some kind of twisted Casanova. Twisted indeed, as a raging ocean of fire and severely burned, bony hands reaching up from there operated as the background for the painting. Disturbingly golden eyes mirrored the flames surrounding his imposing figure. It was all ridiculously dramatic, but Demyx resisted scoffing out loud, for some mindless part of him was convinced that the flaming soldier would get upset if he did.

“Is everything alright, Milord?” Naminé’s timid voice piped from his right, startling Demyx for good.

Terra and Demyx’s mother were nowhere to be seen anymore, but distant babbling he detected as the very Matriarch carried from somewhere further ahead, where the obscured corridor faded into shapeless darkness. He twirled to meet the girl’s worried stare examining him from few feet away. Tall shadows stretched all the way into the ceiling from the flickering light of the candles lining the walls. They danced across her serious face, and suddenly, a sensation he couldn’t begin to explain had Demyx shivering. What was it that she had said back when they’d been traveling through the woods? He couldn’t remember.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything to break away from this strange, inanimate state he was suddenly caught in, when a freezing draught howled through the empty hallway, and he yelped by the surprise.

“D-did you feel that?” Demyx gasped, hugging himself tightly as he shuddered. Had someone left a window open at the other end of the corridor? That must’ve been it, although it was a bit peculiar how it had been but a one vicious gust raging past, before the air stood still once again. All was warm and windless seconds after, but the current passing through had planted a chill to Demyx’s bones.

“Feel what, Milord?” 

“You mean you didn’t- the current just now-“ Demyx stammered, swaying his hands wildly to demonstrate the wind blowing over them mere seconds ago. He could feel Naminé’s unreadable eyes observing him with what he fathomed would be pity. Demyx seldom had very strong feelings in one way or another about people in general, but he quite liked Naminé, and found he didn’t wish to have her thinking he was a total nutcase. So, he gathered his nerves. “Ah, forget it. Guess my mind is playing tricks on me… it’s been quite a hassle, this evening.”

“It has”, Naminé nodded, tilting her head and eyeing Demyx sympathetically. “Perhaps it would be in order for you to rest a while before the dinner's due, Milord. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Her doll-like face turned beet-red instantly after she’d said that and she looked away meekly. “Do forgive me, I did not mean to be so disrespectful.“

“You don’t have to apologize to me for such things, Naminé. We’re friends, aren’t we?” He walked towards the girl, arms open like he was nearing a frightened rabbit he didn’t wish to scare away.

“W-we are?” She uttered. It looked a little like she wanted to escape the scene quickly as possible, which had probably something to do with how she felt like she'd overstepped her boundaries, daring to get so friendly with the Young Lord himself like that.

“That’s right. And you are free to speak to me like one. No need to be so awfully formal with just the two of us.” She looked like she wanted to protest Demyx’s statement, but ended up keeping the objections within herself and simply inclined her head in a polite bow.

“Shall I walk you to your rooms then, Milord?”

“You go ahead and get some rest yourself. I’ll be coming right after you, but before that…” What exactly was he going to say? _I need to stand and ogle at this painting of some deranged war lord, straight from an old maiden’s most unchaste fantasies?_ Heaven forbid.

It turned he didn’t have to say a thing. Naminé had taken his words already as cue for her to leave, and with excusing herself briefly, she scurried down the dim hallway and disappeared into shadows.

It did bother him a little, how persistently tense Naminé still acted around him, even though Demyx had gone out of his way appearing friendly and easily approachable to her. Demyx wasn’t that invested in fretting over the complicated etiquettes and rules in circles of judgmental aristocrats he’d lived most of his life in, but showing courtesy and respect to everyone, especially to women and those of the common folk, was something he’d taken to his heart. He guessed one could call him a proper gentleman like that, though he did lack some of the grace and discreetness his peers expected of a fine young man like him.

Well, Demyx shrugged. At least he had let Naminé know that he considered her a friend. Most likely she would come around after she’d get over the mortification of her freely spoken description about Demyx’s current looks. Now that the corridor was yet again empty, he turned back to examine the peculiar portrait of one undoubtedly peculiar man, and his heart tumbled clumsily at the sight of it. He squinted his eyes, inching closer and closer to the painting, so his nose almost touched the canvas. Something wasn’t right here. He rubbed his face against his hands, then looked up again in hopes that he was just seeing things, but that didn’t happen. He was certain the smile upon the portrait’s crude face had grown wider!

Demyx backed away with a tired laugh at his own silliness. Perhaps he was more anxious about this whole marriage thing that he’d even realized, for the stress was clearly making him soft on the head. Demyx kept his eyes strictly upon the corridor ahead as he fled the portrait’s presence. It wasn’t suitable for a man of his status to run around like some rascal, but he figured a little jogging wouldn’t hurt if no one was there to see it.

💀 💀 💀

Demyx wasn't safe from the nervousness as the dinner time struck, but his worries diminished quickly by the warm welcome that he received from the Count and his only daughter. Count Eraqus apologized his earlier absence so wholeheartedly, that even Demyx’s mother, an old-fashioned Matriarch who thought being late could have easily been added to the list of Original Sins, quickly relented in the presence of their kind and charismatic host. Ventus, who’d been the one to fetch them for the dinner, assisted Demyx and his mother to take a seat by the long, mahogany table draped in emerald-green silken cloth and cutlery so delicate and shiny, that it felt almost criminal to stain them with food. A line of golden candelabras stood proudly at the middle of the table, and by them the neatly set tableware waited for the first dish to be served.

Despite his status and the grandness of the estate he inhabited, Demyx was surprised to note the Count didn’t seem to have other servants aside from Ventus and Terra. Both young men stood regally by the other ends of the dining room, hand behind their back and white towels hanging by other arm. Demyx thought they seemed like very nice and proper fellows, but he couldn’t help finding the drastic difference in their height and demeanor a little funny. The two reminded him of a comedy-sketch, where the punchline had something to do with the other one being painstakingly calm and collected, while his meek colleague was constantly hanging by the edge of a meltdown.

As for the host and hostess themselves, Demyx was delighted to learn that his future father-in-law wasn’t as intimidating as he’d feared. Count Eraqus seemed to possess a calm and gentle soul, much like his daughter, whose serene presence alone was making Demyx feel less antsy. It wasn’t just that she was the most breathtaking fair lady Demyx had encountered, but she also seemed to have a good head above her shoulders. Aqua was genuinely funny and smart, not at all afraid to speak her mind when she felt it was due. Apparently she was very invested in political, especially social issues Worlds widely, and saw them an appropriate discussion for the dinner table, too. Demyx found himself agreeing with the rather liberal ideas she presented, nodding along as though half of what she said didn’t go completely over his head, he felt a bit awkward by his own ignorance.

Watching her beautiful face lighting up as she spoke of these widely controversial topics in her calm, yet passionate tone was almost enough to chase Demyx’s thoughts away from a wicked smirk and pair of golden eyes.

“And that is why I think Destiny Islands should withhold the trade agreement with Port Royal. Why would they help sustaining a kingdom that still allows slavery?” Aqua concluded her long-winded lecture and settled to duck her dessert spoon into the futuristically green jelly served before her.

“Aqua, my dearest”, Count Eraqus mused with chastising tone, though there was an amused glint to his dark eyes. “I have always admired your strong sense of justice, you know I have, but we are Worlds away from those kingdoms. It is a waste of good time and energy to bully yourself with such leaden things, as there isn’t much for us to do about them.”

“Well, perhaps it is a high time for the Worlds to start looking out for one another again. What do you think, Demyx?” She proposed this very casually, and it took a moment for Demyx to let it sink that she’d just asked him a question.

“Wh-what do I think?” He parroted. He could feel it wouldn’t do to wait and hope that everyone’s attention would turn elsewhere any minute now, for all the eyes were firmly on Demyx, waiting for his very insightful and undoubtedly well-educated take on this worldly issue. Talking about these things privately with his intended wouldn’t have been too bad, in fact, Demyx thought it might have proven surprisingly interesting, though he’d never considered himself that passionate about politics in the first place. But now he felt frankly terrified of a mere thought of voicing anything too controversial while his mother was present. He could just feel the old Matriarch’s icy stare drilling through his temple. Amongst the fine upper class of Demyx’s hometown, it was considered very bad manners to talk politics during a dinner ceremony. “I do agree with you”, Demyx found himself blurting, to his very own horror. “About the Worlds and… the peace…”

“I fear, Lady Aqua, that you have asked my Demyx a question that isn’t quite his area. He’s more of a daydreamer, you see. Too busy strumming that instrument of his to keep up with the world around him.” Demyx flinched at the overly sweet tone of his mother’s voice. Clearly she was trying to save him from losing face in front of his wife-to-be, but it sure felt nothing but patronizing to Demyx right now, and he could feel his face flushing by the embarrassment. Way to make him appear like a total airhead to the very people he was supposed to impress…

“Hmm, is that so”, Aqua mused, thoughtful as she scrutinized Demyx in a way that had him sinking a bit on his seat. Her deep, ocean-at-night eyes were a striking contrast to her cream-white dress; their blue seemed almost aggressive, glinting like the darkened waves of open water that a lighthouse cast its pale light upon. “You any good, then?”

“Language, Aqua”, the Count commented lightly whilst neatly sipping at his wine. It seemed even when Count Eraqus had something to scold about, he still remained (at least seemingly) friendly and good-natured. “That is hardly a proper way to address your future husband.”

Aqua didn’t answer, but merely swayed her father’s concerns away by ignoring him altogether. She leaned slightly forward on her seat towards Demyx sitting in front of her, barely contained excitement shining through her peaceful demeanor. Demyx could feel a new kind of confidence pouring through him by how keenly the fair lady wanted to learn about his skills in the musical field. This was definitely a fortunate turn of events. Though the high society back in his hometown tended to whisper and moan behind his back, how futile and spineless the only son of the fish factory's heiress was, even they couldn’t deny his gift that was his music.

“As a matter of fact, I am. I’ve played sitar since I was five”, said Demyx, adjusting to sit a bit taller but still mindful of not appearing too cocky. “Learned myself. My father used to tell me there’s enough noise in the world as it is, so him supporting my ambitions was pretty much out of the question.” He didn’t dare to even glance at his mother’s direction after what he said, but Demyx could just feel how her whole self-important being next to him fumed with displeasure.

“What about a piano?” Aqua prompted, unmoved by the dramatic peek to Demyx’s past, which was probably due to her being considerate enough for doing so. “There’s one in the parlor. Perhaps you could play us something after we’re through with the dinner?”

“Well, I do know a few passages by heart…” Demyx mused. He could feel his face heating, and the red wine he’d been consuming quite liberally was only partly to be blamed for that. In all truth, he wasn’t too sure about his claim of knowing any passages by heart, not anymore that was. Last time he’d played piano was good ten years ago, at his great grandmother’s birthday party. And it just so happened back then, that midway into Demyx performing McDowell’s _Sonata Tragica_, the elderly Matriarch was met with her end. Not because of the impressive number of candles upon her birthday cake nor Demyx’s heart-wrenching performance, for it turned out she’d choked on an olive. After these tragic events, it was sort of a taboo to play piano in any kind of formal occasion within their family.

But there was something, something _strange_ that switched in his head, as soon as he took his seat before the majestically black, grand piano. The melody, the sound came to Demyx from out of nowhere, like he’d just been struck by a lightning. Had he heard it back when he was a kid perhaps? Demyx couldn’t tell, but it felt so bittersweetly familiar that his eyes stung. It had to be that, right? It wasn’t like he could just come up with a perfectly completed passage like this so spontaneously. How could he know this strange melody so well, if he couldn’t even recall hearing it before? It made absolutely no sense, and he reckoned he’d just go with it for now and let his fingers do the job, for it seemed they knew exactly what they were doing. It was a sad, haunting tune, not at all suitable for a pleasant and merry gathering before the lazily crackling log-fire after a lovely dinner.

Suddenly his eyelids felt way too heavy to support. Demyx let them droop, allowing himself to sink deeper into the abyss of melancholic chords he set free. Darkness and music were soon all there was. The crackle of fire and warm scent of cinnamon and freshly baked biscuits started feeling like a distant memory, or perhaps a dream he once had, a long time ago…

And then, through the shapeless, eternal darkness, a golden moon poured to light up the nothingness around Demyx. _No,_ a voice at the back of his mind whispered. _Not a moon._ _It’s an eye._

_And it’s looking right at me!_


	2. Vile Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, it seems this fic will be a little longer ride than I originally intended. Better buckle up, fellas! Also, thank you so much for the feedback, I really appreciate it :)

* * *

_How doth the little crocodile_

_Improve his shining tail,_

_And pour the waters of the Nile_

_On every golden scale!_

_How cheerfully he seems to grin,_

_How neatly spreads his claws,_

_And welcomes little fishes in,_

_With gently smiling jaws!_

_ **\- Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll** _

”Demyx? Demyx! Can you hear me?” Aqua’s worried voice reached through the vast darkness, and her arms wrapped securely around Demyx’s shoulders before his lethargic body could collapse to the floor.

And just like that, Demyx was brought back to the gentle warmth of the parlor. Gone was the eerily calm abyss of nothingness, as well as the horrible, golden leer shining its hollow light upon him. He didn’t mean to scream out loud as he came back to himself, but he must have anyway, for his throat felt sore and dry as a desert as his eyes flashed open. Cluster of worried faces hovering above his vision ogled Demyx in utter bewilderment, and he probably would’ve been positively devastated by the mortification of the situation at hand, if only the unexplainable flood of terror would have released him from its bindings.

“It's alright, Demyx. You are among friends. You are safe now”, Aqua chanted her calming litany of nonsense like a mother would do to comfort a shaken child. Her kind face melted to a small, relieved smile as the storm in Demyx’s wild and fearful eyes subsided, and he blinked up to her. She assisted Demyx to find his balance again, keeping her hand steadily behind his back in case he’d suddenly black-out again. Her blue eyes scanned Demyx up and down carefully, an apologetic tone in her voice as she spoke. “I am so, so sorry, Demyx. This is all my fault, I shouldn’t have made you play if you’re not feeling well.”

He didn’t fully register the content of Aqua’s words, even as he started becoming yet again aware of his surroundings. Though he’d managed to crawl back to light from that strange place his mind had traveled, the hopeless silence of figureless void and a feeling how all wasn’t quite alright wouldn’t stop whispering to him. Demyx opened his mouth, however, ready to make up a passable excuse for this dramatic spectacle, but his mother was fast to interrupt him.

“Don’t you worry about it, Lady Aqua”, she laughed airily, violently snatching Demyx by the arm and pulling him to stand up straight in rather inconsiderate manner. “Nerves, you see. He is quite a sensitive young man, and this isn’t the first time the stage fright got the best of him. I shall see him back to his rooms right away…”

“Quit talking as if I’m not here!” Demyx snapped back, wrenching himself free from his mother’s hold. He winced at the rude words his mouth spat, though he couldn’t bring himself to worry about that too much. Fog of terror spiraling his head had left Demyx anxious and irritable, and the fact that his mother was clearly far more concerned about appearing representable in front of the Count than the wellbeing of her own son only added to these feelings. Not that he wasn't used to being treated like a trophy, whose only function was to appear fine and polished in the eyes of important people. Usually Demyx would make an effort to hide the kind of hurt it caused, but right now his thoughts were a volcano on the verge of eruption. If he wouldn’t be careful now, there was a strong possibility he'd say something he'd greatly regret. “I’m perfectly capable of walking there by myself, thank you very much. If you’ll excuse me now…”

His face felt like it was in flames as he fled the room. Demyx didn’t dare to look behind, but he could feel everyone’s eyes following his retreating back. The silence he left in his wake felt nearby unbearable, and as soon as he rushed out the parlor’s door and into the safety of a dusty corridor, his stomach twisted in nauseating panic. _What had he done?_ He really did just make an absolute fool out of himself before the Count and Lady Aqua. Not only had he passed out right in front of them, but also threw such a bratty tantrum at his mother and stomped away like an unruly child!

Rushing onwards while his heart pounded, he swallowed back a bitter lump forming in his throat. He didn’t even know where he was headed, but he didn’t get too far, before he could hear someone rushing to catch up with him, a telltale click-clack of heels approaching him swiftly.

“Demyx! Please, wait up!” The hallway reverberated Aqua’s urgent voice, causing Demyx to obey her instantly. He did spend a few passing seconds pondering whether he should just run for it instead, but that didn’t seem like a very reasonable decision in the long run, so in the end he chose to face the agonizingly awkward situation head on.

“Look, I am sorry for my behavior, I truly am”, Demyx sighed, utterly defeated as he turned to Aqua, “but I really do wish to be alone right now, so–”

“Where did you learn that melody?”

_“What?”_ Demyx lifted his head and blinked, finally daring to properly meet her gaze.

“The passage you just played. Where did you learn it?” Aqua demanded, the look on her face unreadable.

Well, this definitely wasn’t how Demyx pictured this encounter would play out. He felt astonished, if not little disheartened by the fact that his fiancée appeared more interested in his music than how he was feeling right now. _Not all that different from mother, it seems_, a voice in his head offered bitterly.

“Where did I ever–” Demyx huffed. “I don’t know, alright? It was just a silly little piece I came up with.”

“Really? How peculiar”, said Aqua. Dismissing Demyx’s annoyed state quite blatantly, she tapped at her chin with a thoughtful expression on her face. Demyx would have been lying, if he were to claim that her odd behavior didn’t stir his curiosity ever so slightly.

“It… is?” He managed dumbly, frustration fading fast and making room for confusion.

“Most definitely. What you just played was the melody of a very old sonata. _Lullaby of the Mad General,_ as it’s known.” After revealing this in rather dramatic emphasis, Aqua studied Demyx in anticipation, visibly excited to witness his reaction, which never really came. Demyx stared at her expectant face blankly, wheels turning wildly in his head as he tried to come up with a suitable answer. Despite his prosperous upbringing and the high quality of the education he’d received, apparently he remained uncultured enough to have no idea who on earth this _Mad General_ was.

Aqua didn’t make fun of his lack of knowledge on the subject, though she looked a little disappointed by the apathetic response she received. She sighed deeply, her tensed shoulders dropping. “Walk with me, Demyx”, she said then, grasping him by the hand without a warning as she started leading them confidently onwards.

A heat rushed to Demyx’s cheeks by how boldly she dared to touch him, and he quickly glanced about him to make sure no one was there to witness such improper behavior. His mother would surely throw a fit, should she catch them engaging in such indecency, when they still weren’t officially wedded. Luckily, there wasn’t a single living soul to be seen, although the lines of portraits of severe-faced lords and ladies upon the walls seemed to eye the young couple quite judgingly as they strode by. Just when Demyx was about to question where exactly they were headed, (for the pretty much precisely identical corridors seemed to go on forever after every turn they took) his mouth snapped shut, as they came to a stop by the one and only devilishly smiling soldier, surrounded by ocean of flames. For a fleeting second Demyx was possessed by an irrational urge to stick his tongue out at the ridiculous portrait, as for some reason its cocky smirk suddenly seemed very personal to him. It was almost as though the flaming soldier was making fun of him!

“Shall I introduce you, gentlemen”, Aqua cleared her throat, before announcing in exaggeratedly official tone of voice, “Demyx, meet the Mad General, Mad General, meet Demyx!”

“Yes, I believe we met earlier”, Demyx let out a dry laugh. Playing along with Aqua’s antics, he performed a mockingly courteous bow before the portrait. “Glad to make your acquaintance, Master…” he paused with the sentence. It felt a little unseemly to call someone by such a crude title, even when Aqua had been the first one to do it. “Does he really not have another name?”

“Many, in fact”, Aqua said, “but as far as I know, he went by the name _Xigbar_ until his dying day. He was a general of the Darkside during the Second Keyblade War, and also my great-great grandfather. I am not too surprised that you don’t know about him, actually, for even the history books prefer to think he never existed in the first place. He was a very cruel man, you see.”

“Huh. How about that”, Demyx remarked weakly. It wasn't much of a surprise, he reckoned, that someone portrayed in the raging hell fire, surrounded by scorched hands of burned bodies, wasn't a very likeable person. But to fight on the _Darkside?_ A shiver ran through his body at the thought. Demyx had never been one to pay too close attention during history lessons, but even he was aware about the horrors that had occurred during the Darkside’s tyranny. The revolution had been a bloody one, and though the Second War had occurred a good hundred years ago, the mere memory of it was enough to rip open the scars in people’s hearts, so badly infected that even the time herself had a hard time healing them. Demyx wondered vaguely, whether his mother was aware the Count’s family was related to a man, who nowadays was pretty much considered a war criminal.

“I’m guessing he died in the war?”

“Oh, no. After the victory of the Darkside, he was considered a hero of his time. He moved into this very estate with his wife and their unborn child.”

“And they lived here happily ever after…” Demyx offered unsurely. Somehow this Mad General didn’t strike him as the kind of character to have a storybook ending coming his way.

“Again, no”, Aqua shrugged. Demyx thought it a bit unnerving, how lightly she shared such grim tale about her family’s history. “In the end, he lost his mind to the memory of the war. The wife left him, he started drinking, and in time turned simultaneously into a local terror and a laughing-stock of the villagers. During the rise of the Light, the fear in townspeople’s hearts turned into anger, and they were no more afraid to show just how much they despised the general. All alone with his demons and hated by all, he finally snapped for good and shot himself dead in the very forest you traveled through. Not very original of him, if you ask me.”

“What a horrible life he must have led”, Demyx found himself saying. A heavy weight landed at the bottom of his stomach and his chest ached by Aqua’s words. Why did his heart feel so heavy all of a sudden? Surely it wasn’t necessary to feel sorry for such a horrible person, like the general had clearly been when he still lived.

“Well, he kind of had it coming, don’t you think?” It was a remark rather than a question, which Demyx realized only as he’d already opened his mouth, ready to offer some undoubtedly unintelligent input to that, but snapped his mouth shut as soon as Aqua shifted her gaze to look at him. “But you”, there was an excited twinkle to her eyes as she lowered her voice conspirately, “you were familiar with his song, though it isn’t a very common piece to come across nowadays. How come?”

“I don’t know what to tell you”, Demyx said mildly. A peculiar thing, no denying it, but right now he felt way too drained to bother speculating it too closely. “It must be something I learned a long time ago, and only recalled it today. Simple as that.”

“Some say his presence still lingers here. Who knows, perhaps he saw you as an opportunity for hearing his song again.” Demyx wanted to think Aqua was merely joking around with such a mindless suggestion, but her sincere face suggested otherwise.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Demyx burst into laughter at the unforeseen comment, though the most delicate breeze of dread tickled at the back of his neck. “Should my mother find out I’ve been possessed by the ghost of a Darksider, she’ll never let me hear the end of it!”

“That wouldn’t be too convenient, would it? It is a promise, that this will stay between the two- sorry, the_ three_ of us“, Aqua chuckled, throwing a meaningful glance at the smirking painting silently following their curious exchange. The amused smile on her face faltered soon, and she cleared her throat. “Look at me now, we have only just met and here I am, already bothering you with such a strange thing. You must think I’m completely out of it.”

“Not at all!” Demyx hurried to reassure her. The sudden urge to take her by the hand made his face flush fiercely. He didn’t act on it, for it would surely come off a bit too intrusive this early into their relationship. “I think you are the nicest person that I’ve ever met.” If possible, his face grew even angrier shade of red by the words he blurted out. Well, that was an unnervingly upfront phrase if he ever said one…

Aqua laughed, the sound of her gentle voice like wind chimes in summer breeze. Demyx couldn’t but admire her beauty in silent awe. “Thank you for your kind words, Demyx”, she finally said. “Would it be alright if I walked you to your room? To protect you from any ghosts that might lurk by, of course.”

“That would be most appreciated”, Demyx managed, offering a sheepish smile for his fiancée.

The walk to the room Demyx was staying felt considerably less eerie with Aqua by his side. It was located at the end of the very corridor, where the portrait of the Mad General hung by. With promises of meeting again tomorrow under the circumstances of breakfast, Demyx was finally left to his own company. The memory of his graceless takeoff from the parlor some moments earlier did bother him to some extent, but after he’d departed with Aqua in such friendly spirits, Demyx’s tired mind was willing to lend his heavy head a break and leave the worrying for later. Surely his mother and the Count would have some sympathy in store for the poor little bridegroom, who the anxiety had gotten its hold on.

Demyx didn’t waste any time before peeling himself from his uncomfortable attire and diving among the fluffy covers. He played with the thought of reading a while before going to sleep, but quickly realized how in vain it would be, for never mind how tired his body felt, his thoughts were way too scattered and charged for concentrating on anything. So, he adjusted to pouring himself a glass of water, before blowing the candles out and settling to wait for his ride to the dreamland.

The comforting oblivion didn’t make him wait for too long. Aqua’s blue eyes and kind smile were the last thought to cross his mind before the sleep took him, and he smiled to himself at the sweet image. But as he’d rise to the new morning, it wouldn’t be to the aftermath of lovely dreams about his beautiful bride, for the ocean blue had changed into wicked and golden long before Demyx woke up.

👁 👁 👁

Gentle and delightedly warm September was followed by a lot more unforgiving October. Golden meadows may have been covered by frost, and the forest stripped from the last of its auburn leaves, but Demyx’s heart felt warmer and lighter than it had in a very long time.

Before the start of the courting, he couldn’t have imagined the extent to which Aqua and the Count would go their way to make him feel sincerely welcomed in their home. There wasn’t a trace of pressure nor high expectations thrown his way, for Count Eraqus had given the young ones all the time and freedom to get to know each other in peace. While trusting a young couple to roam freely by just the two of them was considered quite scandalous where Demyx came from, that wasn’t the case of Count Eraqus’ household. It was clear the Count trusted and respected his daughter a great deal, and therefore did not see any problem in allowing Aqua and Demyx to spend time together without the presence of a chaperone. Demyx's mother certainly frowned upon such liberal arrangement, but still hadn't gone her way to express any objections, for one didn’t easily question a respectable man like the Count himself was. She also couldn’t deny the effectiveness of this untraditional courting method: To both parents’ delight, it turned Demyx and Aqua got along marvelously, though not necessarily in the way that one might expect a couple of younglings promised to each other would. They had become fast friends, who genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. Yet, as their friendship bloomed into flower, somehow the concept of romantic love seemed to be drifting farther away by every passing day.

Demyx shivered at the chilly breeze that snuck inside his woolen scarf, burying his face into the warmth of it more securely. He fished a handful of bread crumbs from his pocket, scattering them absentmindedly upon the blackened surface of a small pond by the edge of the forest, where a brood of ducks had already gathered to wait for their share. It was a crisp Wednesday forenoon, an hour before the lunchtime would be due. Demyx oftentimes found himself at loss of what to do at this particular time of the week, for Aqua would be busy with her handicraft lessons all morning, right until the lunch was to be had in the dining room. Getting up uncharacteristically early and exploring the mesmerizing nature of the countryside had become something close to a habit for Demyx. Not only for the sole reason of Demyx finding the activity surprisingly pleasant, but also to distract his thoughts from wandering into direction he much preferred they wouldn’t…

All in all, the state of affairs was in good condition. It could be a lot worse, really. So what if the sparks of passion and romance were lacking from his and Aqua’s otherwise flourishing relationship? At least he’d be marrying a woman he was glad to consider a friend. Demyx had witnessed first-handedly a fair share of unhappy marriages between people who pretty much despised each other, and had seen what that kind of life did to a person in the long run. The curse of growing up within high society was quite cruel like that.

He did like Aqua, and there was a strong possibility that she liked Demyx back. Surely in time their friendship would build into a love between man and wife, or something close to that at least. Demyx swallowed as the feeling of thickness gathered to his throat. Life was good and the future seemed bright enough, so why on earth was he so eager to ruin it all with this silly obsession he’d developed for a man known as _Xigbar,_ a long-dead war general of the Darkside?

What had started as innocent curiosity towards this mysterious character from the past, had quickly gotten severely out of control. Demyx would go about his day with Aqua, performing the steps of proper courtship the best he could, but come the night, he found himself drawn to the strange portrait, like a comet caught in the orbit of a foreign planet. He could have spent literal hours staring at it if he dared, and lately Demyx had went as far that he would bring a pillow and a lantern with him, make himself comfortable against the wall facing the portrait, and wonder about the most disorderly things. Like how it would feel to be touched by those undoubtedly callused hands, rough and hardened in the flurry of battle...

And every time as he’d prepare for putting himself to bed, something like yearning would sit heavily on his heart. The first time Demyx slid his hand into his undergarments while picturing himself at the mercy of the ruthless war lord, the shame he’d felt afterwards had been so devastating, that he had cried himself to sleep that night. After that it became a regular thing for Demyx, and the feelings of mortification were soon no more but a nasty whisper at the back of his mind. It was wrong and twisted, to act on such heinous desires while he was soon to become a husband to such a beautiful, picturesque woman like Aqua was. And yet he found himself unable to help the steadily building, oppressive need for this despicable man, who’d lived long before Demyx was even born into this world!

Sighing heavily, Demyx sprinkled the rest of the crumbs for the happily quacking ducklings, before turning to head back to the estate. Though he quite enjoyed the company of Count Eraqus’ household, he’d found gathering his thoughts in peace and quiet wasn’t too bad from time to time. He’d resided at the estate for two weeks now, and the wedding was still almost a month away. Optimist as he was, Demyx chose to believe all would click into the right place before that: He would get over from whatever madness that had gotten a hold of him, followed by Aqua discovering how hopelessly in love she’d been with him this whole time. Demyx felt confidence welling in him by these hopeful thoughts. Whistling a happy tune in a burst of inspiration, he skipped his way across the estate’s front yard.

“Oh, Ven!” Demyx called over to the petite servant boy, who trotted by the other end of the main hall, a basket full of freshly folded laundry in his hands. “Do you happen to know if Aqua is already free from her lessons?”

“Lord Demyx!” Ventus squeaked, quickly adjusting his hold on the basket as he hurried to Demyx. “W-we were under the belief that you were accompanying your mother on her visit to your hometown. Not that it is any of our business, of course…”

“Do calm down, Ven. Did I not tell you that there’s no need to act so uptight with me?” Demyx chuckled, patting the boy on his shoulder as he walked past. “Where is everyone?”

“The Count is discussing about the arrangements of the upcoming harvest fair with the headman of a nearby village. As for Lady Aqua… I do believe she is still quite busy with her… lessons.” Ventus coughed out the end of the sentence, shifting a bit awkwardly on his feet. "Lunch will be served in no time, Milord. In the meanwhile, perhaps you could entertain yourself by checking the newest additions to our library’s collection that arrived this morning?”

“That does sound like a plan. Catch you later, Ven!” He wasn’t certain about it being appropriate of him to use such freely spoken language with the house staff, but acting overly formal with them when no one else was around felt just stupid and unnecessarily complicated to Demyx.

Demyx made his way to the third floor and towards the west wing, where the decently spacious library room was located. He really wasn’t much of a reader, to be honest, but after the awakening of his (not entirely healthy) curiosity towards a certain infamously historical figure, Demyx had waded through every piece of information available of him, and was quite excited to see if there would be anything new concerning the _Mad General._

His walk along the deserted hallway ended by the room right before the library, as a voice reached his ears. A hushed laughter, to be exact, and it carried right from behind the partly opened door. It clearly belonged to a woman, and seeing how there weren’t too many residents under Count Eraqus’ roof to begin with, the curiosity caught the better of him easily. Demyx moved to take a peek through the narrow crack that gave into the room. It took precisely a second and a half for Demyx to comprehend just what he was seeing, but it was something that would definitely haunt him to his dying day.

Terra’s broad back was the first thing to come into his view, his carefully styled hair a ruffled mess and the fabric of his white shirt positively wrinkled. He wasn’t alone however, but with a woman who had her long legs wrapped around his middle, fluffy petticoat of her skirts lifted scandalously high while Terra’s hands raked shamelessly upwards her milk-white stockings.

Way too many questions twirled in a crazed merry-go-round within Demyx’s head. What in blue blazes was the meaning of this? Was the Count aware about one of his staff members indulging in such indecency? And who even was this promiscuous woman in Terra's arms? All the signs of a big fat scandal were in the air, and it wouldn't have been entirely true to say that Demyx was above staying to see it escalate. One didn’t spend their whole life amongst petty and scheming aristocrats, without developing an appetite for other people’s blunderings.

It was only as the woman released a breathy gasp, that Demyx felt his heart squeezing nastily by the sudden realization. His inkling got proved correct when Terra’s face tilted to kiss the side of her neck, and Aqua’s blissfully smiling face came to view.

The door cried out on its un-oiled hinges as the shock had Demyx tumbling forward uncontrollably. He didn’t stay and wait to see their reactions, for he pushed to his feet in a span of seconds. Speeding towards the library, he wondered whether it would be possible for him to disappear among the labyrinth of bookshelfs and never to be found again.


	3. Face Your Fairytale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm literally the slowest writer that ever wrote! But here's chapter three!
> 
> Please watch out, for many of the additional warnings apply to this chap.

* * *

_Who’s that walking on the moorland?_

_Who’s that moving on the hill?_

_They are passing ‘mid the bracken,_

_But the shadows grow and blacken_

_And I cannot see them clearly on the hill._

_Who’s that calling on the moorland?_

_Who’s that crying on the hill?_

_Was it bird or was it human,_

_Was it child, or man, or woman,_

_Who was calling so sadly on the hill?_

_ **\- A Tragedy, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle** _

Clock ticked evenly upon the dining room’s wall. It was the first time Demyx had paid any mind to the excruciatingly rustic sound that it made, its metallic pendulum swinging back and forth in a way that almost demanded someone to say something, to free the room from its burden. For the atmosphere currently reigning there was way too heavy to support, and Demyx was certain he would break his back if he were to attempt it any longer.

After a while of unenthusiastically picking at his food, sour taste lingering in his mouth no matter what he put there, Demyx finally killed the suffocating silence by clearing his throat.

“Ven, would you mind leaving us for a minute?”

The concerned servant boy looked relieved by Demyx’s request. He had been serving the young couple during their lunchtime, and it seemed the awkward silence surrounding usually so talkative and easygoing pair was almost as distressing to Ventus than it was for them.

“O-of course, Milord! Please, do not hesitate to call me back if you need anything.” Ventus didn’t linger before hurrying out of the room. With a brief, worried glance at Aqua, he closed the door behind him. If possible, the gesture made the taste on Demyx’s tongue even more venomous. Was he really the only oblivious fool around here?

“Demyx, I can explain– “

“How could you?” Demyx snapped over Aqua’s infuriatingly calm voice, wrenching his eyes sharply from his still nearby full plate. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“This has nothing to do with you”, Aqua said quietly. Something very sad floated among the deep blue of her gaze. Demyx was frustrated to note, that even within the storm of well justified anger, he still liked it better when she smiled. He would have been more than willing to offer her comfort, too, he really would… if only the situation had been about anything else than her scandalous affair with the family butler.

“Nothing to do with me? You are my _wife!”_

“What I meant”, she continued, hint of frustration creeping into her voice, “is that none of this is your fault. There is nothing wrong with you, Demyx. What me and Terra have… it all started a very long time ago.”

“Why, thank you for the heads up. I feel so much better already”, Demyx scoffed. It wasn’t like him at all, to sneer and taunt anyone like this, but right now he felt so agitated, that he couldn’t even properly meet Aqua’s eyes anymore. “Perhaps we should cancel our wedding and prepare one for you and lover boy instead. I’m sure your father would find this turn of events deeply exciting, like the liberal gentleman that he is...”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know how it is”, Aqua spat suddenly, slamming her palms upon the table hard enough that Demyx nearly failed to swallow his drink properly. “You know just as well as I do, that we don’t have any say in this, that there is no place for real love in the life we’re doomed.”

Her words released Demyx from his veil of bitterness at once, sinking deep underneath his skin like a bullet. Contrary to popular belief, Demyx wasn’t an utter idiot. Perhaps a bit naïve, and under certain circumstances a little foolish, but not an idiot: He was perfectly aware, that in the end this hadn’t been their decision, and assuming that Aqua wanted to be his wife in the first place was nothing but unfair. But somehow, upon first meeting her, Demyx had been convinced they could defeat the pain of burdensome faith together, and eventually learn to love one another. Deep down he guessed he also knew, that life wasn’t a fairytale, and the maiden that he’d caught wasn’t the one in possession of his heart. Nor would she never be.

“I… I’m so sorry, Aqua. I shouldn’t have said those things to you”, Demyx sighed, his tensed body melting into his seat. “You’re right. I’m sure we’ve both seen enough unhappy aristocrats ending up in miserable marriages, and I’m not looking forward to that kind of life, either.”

“Demyx… do you really mean that?” Aqua whispered under her breath. Demyx could see her eyes welling by nearly falling tears, and she quickly reached a napkin from the table to press against them.

“I do”, Demyx confirmed with little hesitation. “If Terra is the one for you, I’m not going to stop you from seeing him.”

A moment of silence followed, but this time it wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable nor suffocating. Demyx recognized the topmost feeling upon his own heart as relief, for it wasn’t an everyday occurrence to have an honest, heart-to-heart talk like this with someone among the circles of high society. His heart was filled with nothing but sympathy and affection for the woman before him, his dear friend whom he wished nothing but happiness. He really, truly wanted to be happy for Aqua, that she had someone so precious in her life, like Terra clearly was to her.

All Aqua managed was softly whispered _thank you._ Gazing into depths of her eyes, deep with emotion and so sincerely grateful by his words, Demyx couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this sure about something, that he’d done the right thing.

The couple continued with their lunch, weight of the shared silence no more a burden to bare.

🌑 🌒 🌓

Death had claimed the backyard’s garden nearby entirely, yet a certain kind of macabre beauty could be found among the frost-covered ground and decayed plants it once nurtured to life.

Demyx and Aqua strolled down the cobble-stone path cleaving through the garden. If one didn’t know better, they looked like an epitome of what would soon be happy newlyweds, with the young gentleman offering his arm politely and fair lady resting both her hands on the crook of his elbow. This close to their marriage, such behavior wasn’t really considered too improper anymore, but in fact was seen quite fitting for two innocently curious youths, who thought their wedding day couldn’t come soon enough.

They stopped by a small bridge, to follow as the wind brushed through the wilted branches reaching from the stream below. It had been a good idea to go for a nice and calming walk before the start of the wedding rehearsal, that was to be held within an hour. Count Eraqus and Demyx’s mother would be there to ensure everything went accordingly, and even a priest from nearby village had been invited to see the rehearsal through. The thought alone was able to water the seed of anxiety in Demyx’s stomach, but the unexpectedly solid friendship that’d developed between him and Aqua had managed to ease some of his stress. Though his mother would certainly give him hard time if he failed to pronounce his wedding vows without stuttering, Demyx knew his intended wouldn’t think poorly of him if he did.

He suspected Aqua’s mind too was occupied with similar musings. So, when she opened her mouth to speak after a while of following the hypnotic silence of withering nature, Demyx was quite taken aback by the question she proposed.

“You are very fond of him, are you not?”

“Come again?”

“Oh, you know”, Aqua shrugged nonchalantly, like she was stating the most obvious thing in the whole wide world. “The brutishly charming fellow you’ve been seeing. Seems to me you two get along quite splendidly.”

“I'm afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about”, Demyx coughed into his hand. It really was quite trying to put on a neutral face, when his heart just catapulted to his throat. He really didn’t like where this was going…

“Come now, Demyx. It is no shame at all”, Aqua lowered her voice as she gently nudged Demyx with her arm.“I guess the Mad General really is quite comely. As comely as bloodthirsty warmongers get, anyway.”

“Oh, this isn’t good at all!” Demyx groaned, burying his burning face in his hands. What a fool he had to be, to think no one would find out about his secret? Especially when he hadn’t been too motivated to go very secretive about it lately, for sneaking around in the dead of night to stare at that godforsaken portrait was something like a ritual to him nowadays. “Am I really being that obvious?”

Aqua pondered the question for a while with a long and thoughtful _hum._ “No, not really. I’m just sneaky enough to find out about these kinds of things.” She glanced at Demyx standing stiffly by her side, a playful smirk on her face fading slightly as she noted how nervous he seemed. “Don't worry. You kept my secret, so yours is safe with me.”

“Thank you”, Demyx sighed. He felt a bit unsure if he should share anything more of his peculiar attachment to the dead man hanging upon the corridor wall. Aqua’s tenderly curious presence was a hard one to resist, however. Feelings and thoughts he’d been alone with for too long demanded to be heard, and Demyx found himself unable to hold his tongue. “I know it’s crazy, but what you told me earlier, about his presence still lingering in these lands… at times I find myself wishing that really was the case.”

“We could always try summoning him.”

“No need to get all smart about it”, Demyx snorted. “Can we please proceed and head back inside already? Mother is going to give me an earful if we’re late for the rehearsal.”

“I’m not joking, Demyx”, Aqua countered, tad impatient. Glancing around to confirm no one but the twisted branches of colorless trees were within their hearing distance, she stepped quite shamelessly into Demyx’s personal space. “Meet me at the parlor after we’re done with the circus. I’ll explain everything there.”

And right as Aqua’s hushed words blew out, a shudder climbed along Demyx’s spine. Familiar sense of dread arrived to knock at his mind’s door, but it was quickly shoved aside by the awakening of his curiosity. Wind rose and curtains of black were pulled before the sky, as Demyx and Aqua retreated towards the estate.

Demyx shivered, but it had little to do with the promise of storm lingering in the air. It was as if the mother nature herself was trying to warn them of something.

🌑 🌒 🌓

There were many things to Aqua that Demyx found quite exceptional. Behind the calm and serene façade, she was an adventurous spirit, passionate in a way that couldn’t be said about many of their peers within the shallow world of aristocrats. He admired how beautifully the fire of life burned within her, for it was bright enough to shine its hopeful light upon Demyx, too.

Although, her utmost interest towards the art of occultism was something he hadn’t expected.

“You want me to do what again?” Demyx exclaimed, followed by a fit of violent coughing as he accidentally inhaled the biscuit he’d been chewing. Somehow, despite the sheer mindlessness of Aqua’s proposal, Demyx found he wasn’t exactly as surprised as he was mentally drained. The wedding rehearsal they’d endured had been something close to a farce, with Demyx dropping the ring several times and nearby bursting into tears before the terrifying and horribly mean priest that’d observed the ceremony. Considering these hardships, getting involved in the matters of black magic didn’t seem like a very good relaxation method.

“I don't want you to do anything. I am merely stating a possibility here”, Aqua remarked, infuriatingly calm whilst sipping at her afternoon tea. “Could be great fun, too.”

Demyx let out a strangled laugh, as soon as he was done coughing his lungs out. “Jolly good time for sure! What could be a more fitting way to spend time with your spouse, than practicing some good old necromancy?”

“It’s probably just a silly little tale that old widows whisper”, Aqua shrugged. “But, should it turn out to be true? The curse would be lifted and you’d finally be united with your Prince Charming. Like in a fairytale.” Mindful of Demyx’s visibly bemused state, she hurried to polish the sentiment, “A very twisted and macabre one, perhaps, but fairytale nonetheless.”

“Could you please explain once again what all this is about?” Demyx massaged his temples in pained manner. Horrified to admit, that the more he mulled Aqua’s suggestion, the more tempting it started to sound.

Clearing her throat, Aqua began to narrate the details of the strange legend:

“It is said, that when the general took his own life, the reaper who was sent to collect him was so terrified of him, that he was turned from the gates of eternity. _‘There is no heart to be found, nor soul to grant salvation, for it is too dark to see among the halls of your empty shell', s_aid the reaper, and banished the Mad General to wait below an old oak tree, right on the spot where he died.”

“Wait? For what exactly?”

“For you, perhaps”, Aqua suggested, way too happily for someone telling such tale. “True love was something the general never knew while he lived. All you have to do is promise to help him learn, speak out your wedding vows, and hand him your ring.”

“I don’t know what to say, except that that’s a whole lot of nonsense right there”, Demyx snorted.

“Just say yes”, was all Aqua said, before concentrating her searching eyes on Demyx.

Sadly, Demyx had never been one to operate well under pressure. It probably was just like Aqua said; a silly tale that elderly folk told to frighten the shite out of their young. But to think there was a slightest chance for Demyx to see the general, _his_ general, materialized in flesh and bone, right before his own two eyes…

In a blink of an eye, Demyx heard himself uttering a wary, yet strangely determined _yes._

🌑 🌒 🌓

Nightfall couldn’t have come sooner for Demyx. All afternoon, he hadn’t been able to concentrate on a thing properly, for within his mind there was a war taking place.

He might have remained quite skeptical about the story of the Mad General’s curse, but even Demyx had to admit, that stranger things had happened since he arrived at these premises. Now that he really thought about it, it was as if his whole stay here had been leading him up to this point. The sense of unexplainable closeness, as if someone was watching him seemed to follow Demyx no matter where he went: It was right there, sitting on his shoulders during dinner ceremonies, knocking at his mind while riding on the carriage, stealing all his attention when something important required it, and even while he dreamed, it persisted. It was almost as if the Mad General himself had chosen Demyx to be the one to free him from his curse!

He snorted a laugh at the thought, his warm breath blowing clouds into cold air.

“Why are you laughing?” Aqua asked, quirking a brow at Demyx and rising the lantern in her hand to study his face.

“You need to ask?” Demyx huffed. “This whole thing is so absurd that I can’t help it.”

“It would be wise to watch your words around here. You might upset the general by saying things like that.”

The pair continued with their joking as they walked, perhaps to conceal the fact how creeped to the bone they both were feeling. It was getting dark like in a blindman’s world, something so unnatural within the silence encircling them, that it grew goosebumps upon Demyx’s skin. It felt like the whole forest was waiting for a right moment to open its jaws and swallow them whole.

“This is it. We’ve reached our destination”, Aqua finally said, coming to a halt by a towering oak tree, grey and decayed in the wheels of time. She placed the lantern upon a spot of frosty moss and tugged her coat more securely around her. “Stage is all yours, my friend.”

“It doesn’t bother you... hearing me speak our vows like this?” Demyx hesitated, shifting on his feet nervously as he let his eyes climb all the way to the naked treetop disappearing into night sky.

“Something tells me you’d rather say them right now”, Aqua said with a thin smile. After searching his heart all afternoon, Demyx couldn’t really argue with that.

He stepped closer to the tree, closed his eyes and sucked in the freezing air. He started to speak:

_ **With this hand, I will lift your sorrows**_

A gust of wind run past his ankles. Playfully, like a small dog happily greeting its master.

_ **Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine**_

Did the ground below his feet just grumble?

_**With this candle, I will light your way into darkness**_

A flock of crows sitting on the branches fled in haste, crying out as they went.

_**With this ring,**_

His heart thudded so violently that he felt like vomiting it out. Demyx reached for his pocket, wrapping his hand around the small, metallic object. He offered his hand blindly towards the darkness and unfolded his grasp. The ring rested heavily upon his palm as he fell on his knees.

_**I ask you to be mine.**_

Silence, followed by silence, followed by… absolutely nothing.

Demyx sighed, shaking his head as he pushed to his feet. “I can’t believe you made me do t–!“

Words got lost in his own shriek as the ground under his feet vanished. Demyx reached to grasp onto the thick roots hanging over the edge of nothingness, before his body could fall down to the unknown. Straining his aching muscles, he started to fumble his way towards the stars of dimly glimmering night sky and back to solid ground again. _Don’t panic. Just keep on moving._ _Steadily, just like that. Just a little more…_

“Demyx!” Aqua’s voice echoed about the forest. Her horrified face appeared soon above the hole that was about to swallow Demyx, and she didn’t waste any time before leaning closer and extending her hand towards him. “Hang in there! I got you!”

Warily, Demyx looked down to the darkness below. Which was a very bad idea, for the panic within him swelled rapidly as he did. Swallowing thickly, Demyx dared to detach his other hand holding onto the slippery branch. They started to pull his trembling body back from the pit, slow and steady. _Almost there,_ the chaos within his mind cheered, as his other arm finally stretched over the edge of abyss and onto the ground._ Just a little more…_

_“Kept me waiting, huh?”_ A voice howled from somewhere below. Gruesome and ragged, and just plain _wrong._

Something wrapped around his ankle.

Panic pressing at his mind exploded to its full potential, rush of adrenaline surging through his body. Demyx gathered the remnants of his strength, leaped up towards the freedom and right into Aqua’s waiting arms, before whomever,_ whatever_ had seized his leg managed to pull him down with it. With a collective yelp, they both fell to the ground as Demyx emerged over the edge.

Heart pounding in his ears, he darted to look behind him: Where the gaping hole had opened up just moments ago, the ground was flat once again. He opened and closed his mouth in vain, words on his tongue too thick, too impossible to put together.

“What the–“

Aqua jumped to his arms, burying her face against his shoulder and clinging to his neck.

Demyx allowed her to weep in his embrace. He felt a little like crying, too, but it was as if the tears were trapped behind his eyes. Sitting there upon the cold moss, skin crawling and heart pounding, Demyx caressed his fingers among her damp hair. He tipped back his head, staring numbly at the night sky. Snowflakes started to descend through the thick curtain of clouds. Softly, tenderly.

“Let’s go home”, Demyx whispered to the weakly blinking stars.

The hole on the ground may have disappeared, but Demyx could feel a new one forming in his heart.

🌑 🌒 🌓

What happened in the forest that night wasn’t brought up the following day, or any after that. Both Demyx and Aqua’s lips were sealed when it came to the macabre endeavor that’d went too far, but that didn’t mean Demyx was unbothered by its memory. Falling asleep became a burden for a good while, for his lustful fantasies of crudely handsome war general were now tarnished by fear. It pressed against his throat, constricted his lungs and grasped his heart every time Demyx closed his eyes. For hours he would lie unmovable and wide awake, waiting for the creatures of night to come and collect him at any moment.

But time passed by, and eventually the comforting cradle of silence lulled both younglings into a sense of security. Surely the living-dead people and vengeful spirits would have come after them by now if they intended to? Everything was as peaceful as ever, and even the persistent feeling of being watched soon abandoned Demyx. After a while, it all started to seem like a dream, too distant to fret over too much.

Not that Demyx had the time for that, anyway, for his life as a married man was about to begin in few minutes!

Demyx examined his reflection staring back through the mirror, while Ventus and Terra fussed around him. There wasn’t much room to move inside the sinfully tight attire they’d dressed him in, but at least it complimented his slender frame in quite comely fashion: White vest with golden buttons hugged his body like a lady’s corset. The necktie around his throat felt what a hangman’s noose probably did when it was pulled tighter, but its black, satiny texture matched quite nicely with the long-tailed tux he wore on top of the outfit. The servants had done their best to flatten his hair, which unfortunately hadn’t been enough, for it stood proud and untamed as ever.

Demyx dived his hand absentmindedly, to make sure the ring was still safe and sound in his pocket. Tiny metallic object was met with his palm, and Demyx sighed in relief. He had needed to get a new one, in order to replace its predecessor that was currently lying somewhere deep underground. _Or in possession of the creature that’d failed to pull Demyx down into darkness…_

“You are looking very handsome, Milord”, Ventus said, snapping Demyx back to current moment. The servant boy stepped back to admire the result of their hard work, that was the dapperly clothed, if not slightly awkward young groom standing before their eyes. “Lady Aqua is a lucky woman.”

Demyx cleared his throat at the comment. Though the man’s face stayed carefully neutral, he could just feel Terra’s whole being fuming with jealousy.

Mercifully, Demyx didn’t have to wait and endure the awkward moment for much longer: It was the time for him to step at the altar and see his timeline as bachelor to its end.

🌑 🌒 🌓

After the formalities were over and done with, the celebrations continued at the estate. Demyx was pleasantly surprised by the general looseness of the atmosphere that prevailed during the afterparty: Every one of their honorary guests seemed to enjoy themselves. Even the ones with the most impressive frowns relaxed in time, to dance, laugh, drink and eat to their hearts content. Conversations flowed interesting and bubbly, and for the first time he could recall, being surrounded by fine folk didn’t make Demyx feel like escaping.

Before the clock announced the midnight hour, last of the guests bid their goodbyes. The Count and Demyx’s mother also retreated to their quarters as soon as everyone was seen either outside or to guestrooms, and so the newlyweds were left to their own devices. Aside from the young couple, only the servants remained within the parlor. Their task at seeing the room clean from traces of celebration got delayed, however, for the newly wedded couple insisted they sat down and shared the remaining bottles of wine with them. All three agreed easily, though Naminé seemed to shy at the idea at first. Luckily, the pleasant atmosphere and a glass of red were able to ease her at last. It warmed Demyx’s heart to see her this way, laughing without a worry and telling stories with stars in her eyes.

They all ended up having such great time together, that when the last drops were consumed from the bottom of the last bottle, Demyx found he didn’t wish for the night to be over just yet.

The newlyweds now had the permission to spend their wedding night however they pleased. Given the absence of physical desire for one another, what could be a better option than enjoying the company of friends?

“I have an idea”, Demyx announced, pointing his finger in the air and jumping to stand on his feet. “We should all go and continue the night in the tavern. Drinks are on me!”

There wasn’t much convincing to be done, before the colorful group of youngsters set out on their journey towards the tavern of the nearest village. The blizzard that’d rampaged over the area earlier had finally relented, leaving behind flocks of gently floating snowflakes and a soft mattress of powdery snow, that crunched under shoe as the company made their way through the woods. Moon and stars on the blackened sky cast light on the path, making the pure white heaps upon the forest bed shine like jewels.

Not even once had Demyx dared to walk there since the bizarre night, that still had him seeing nightmares. If it wasn’t for the wine he’d drank, Demyx was certain he wouldn’t have dared to do so this time around, either. Similar thoughts seemed to occupy Aqua’s mind too, for even though the ongoing conversation remained jocular, her eyes kept following Demyx. As if fearing the ground below would open up and try devouring him again.

A cozy-looking cabin soon emerged from behind the line of naked trees. Warm light shone through its windows, flickering as distorted silhouettes danced and jiggled about. With the sight of their destination, the sinister feeling the travel through the woods had caused was quickly forgotten.

Once inside the tavern, Demyx fulfilled his promise of providing drinks for the whole group, and they settled to sit at a table nearby the stage, where a small orchestra was playing upbeat tunes. Aqua didn’t waste much time before downing her drink and pulling the positively flustered Terra into groove with her.

Demyx smiled at the sight of the two. How ironic was it, that she’d needed to wait until the celebrations of her own wedding were over, to be finally able to dance with the one she loved? Demyx didn’t feel jealous of where the affections of his wife lay, but he couldn’t help feeling a little wistful. He wondered to his drunken self, if there would ever be someone like that for him. If the sparks would fly when Demyx touched them. And, perhaps, as they’d look at Demyx… _bright golden eyes would see nothing but him. _

He shuddered. _Where the hell did that come from?_

Lost within the restless paths of his mind, Demyx failed to notice two pairs of eyes that’d been following him for some time by then. Two young men, in haggard clothes and dust-covered faces were hunched over a small table in a shadowed corner. Their hushed conversation was interrupted once in a while, as they kept throwing meaningful glances towards the blissfully ignorant nobleman, a lost little lamb among the pack of wolves.

When Demyx after a while stood from his seat with a shake of his head and began making his way towards the counter, they shared a nod, and the other one of them rose from the table.

“Why the long face?”

Demyx turned towards the voice, about to regard the speaker with an unimpressed lift of his brow but halted in his tracks. Before his eyes, there stood an unexpectedly handsome and tall stranger, leaning very casually against the counter. A commoner, no doubt about it, but neither the dust covering the bridge of his nose or the worn-out rags sewed upon him were able to lessen his good looks in Demyx’s eyes. It definitely was his alcohol-tainted brain doing the thinking right now, but what of it? Why shouldn’t Demyx take delight in getting attention from handsome strangers, when his wife was having a ball with her butler?

“My face isn't long”, Demyx snorted. “I’m young, rich and married to the fairest lady to be found here. This, my friend, is the face of a winner!”

The stranger eyed him skeptically, an amused smirk stretching his lips. “That lovely bluebird over there, getting it on with the handsome fellow?” He beckoned towards the dancing groups of people, where Aqua and Terra twirled and laughed without a care in the world.

“It’s a bit complicated”, muttered Demyx. Golden surface of his pint swirled and glinted in candlelight, and suddenly the state of his drunkenness hit him at once. It probably would be wise to call it a night and head back soon, before the journey became too trying to endure.

“Be that as it may”, the man mused. Disheveled curls of auburn hair falling on his shoulders were so bright in the flickering light, it was almost hurtful for the eye, “seems like a terrible waste to have a pretty thing like you moping here all alone.”

“For a peasant, you sure have a way with words, do you?” Demyx slapped a hand before his mouth in horror after the slurred phrase escaped him. "I'm so sorry! My intention was not to call you by such a lousy term. I have nothing against commoners, I tell you. I wouldn’t be here roaming among you people if I did…” he could feel his attempt at repairing the damage was making things even more awkward. But the stranger just laughed.

“You can call me anything you like”, he said with a bright smile, twinkle in his gaze so capturing, that Demyx felt his knees going weak. He offered his hand, never taking his eyes from Demyx. “Shall we go wipe away that frown of yours?”

“I…”

“Come with me”, hushed words blew against his ear.

“My friends–“ a loud gasp drowned the rest of Demyx’s sentence, as a palm landed on his lower back and pulled him closer under the searching eyes.

“We won’t be long. I wish to show you something.”

Demyx nodded, heart pounding wildly in his ears. All his instincts were screaming at him to get away while he still could, but something far stronger had gotten its hold on him: A longing so fierce that he felt like bursting into flames, that his body would scorch and burn like a log of cordwood, if he had to remain another moment without feeling the touch of the strong, capable hands on his body.

And so, Demyx and the mysterious stranger weaved their way through the cheerful groups of drunken villagers and towards the exit. As the night stretched onwards, the tavern had turned into one chaotic mixture of voice and movement, blurry and disordered enough, that no one paid any mind to a young nobleman sneaking away in such questionable company. If Demyx felt any remorse for submitting into his urges, they were quickly wiped from his mind for good, as the thrilling anticipation of what was about to happen claimed his thoughts. It had been only in his wildest fantasies, that he’d given into temptations like this, for such unchaste behavior was out of the question in the lives of proper gentlemen. Thought alone should’ve had Demyx grumbling in shame, but that couldn’t have been farther from truth. Somehow the illicitness of it all made this little adventure taste even sweeter on his tongue.

The cozy tavern was left behind, as the stranger kept leading them forward, Demyx dangling by his hand and trying to keep up with the pace. Head high with arousal, he didn’t pay much mind to where he was being taken. If he did, he would have grown wary long before the moment that he actually did.

They'd walked the moonlit path of the woods for what felt like hours, when Demyx broke the silence. “Umm, where exactly are we–“

“I need you to close your eyes.” The stranger stopped, turning to Demyx so suddenly, that he automatically took a few steps back. Something about the request had the tiny hairs on Demyx’s nape standing up. There was urgency to it, like not obeying wasn’t a real option here. The man must’ve sensed his alarm, as he hurried to continue with considerably softer note, “It’s a surprise.”

It was enough to convince Demyx. All his life he’d been trained to yield and obey, so it was kind of a built-in reflex to do as he was told. So, he closed his eyes, and then… he waited. And waited. And waited some more. “Do not get me wrong, but this is getting a little too adventurous for my tastes. I really should head back now. My wife, you see–“

Darkness greeted his blinking eyes, as a sack was dropped over his head. Before Demyx could even begin to understand what was happening, a rope wrapped around his neck and yanked, forcing him to stumble forward. He trembled and he writhed, and he tried to scream, but it was all in vain, for the knot only tightened at that, turning his breaths into pitiful wheezing.

_ “If you wish to not get slaughtered like a pig, I suggest you keep your trap shut.”_

Panic rattling through him took a liquid form, dripping down his spine, halting Demyx completely in place. His heart pounded like a prey looking for shelter, and some distant part within him cursed at his own naivety. He couldn’t see and he couldn’t breathe, but only feel the unflinching body against his back, warm breaths blowing through the fabric over his face. The rope on his throat getting tighter and tighter. His head felt too heavy, lungs craving the sweet cold autumn air they were so cruelly denied…

And then, with final, desperate attempt, Demyx managed to elbow the stranger’s gut, hard enough that the blow had the man staggering backwards and momentarily losing his hold on Demyx. Demyx fought himself free, threw the fabric from covering his head and tried sucking in a breath. It made his eyes water in pain, but he didn’t linger before clambering to his feet and sprinting into run.

A human brain works mysteriously under the circumstances of life and death. It all happened so fast, so unexpectedly, that his mind was wiped clean from everything except his will to survive. Tears prickled his hazy eyes as a strand of hope grew in his hammering heart. _I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t-_ it chanted by every frantic step he took. It wasn’t enough to convince his damaged lungs: Though his feet kept on running, breathing was pure torture for Demyx. His brain didn’t appreciate the lack of oxygen, and a sharp pain slicing through the organ made him see white. A pointy rock hiding within snow-covered hummock finally sealed his faith. He bumped his toe on it, falling to the ground on his stomach.

Few hopeless seconds of trying to find his footing, when a heavy blow landed at the back of his head.

“You entitled little piece of shit!” Snarled a voice above, the sole of dirty shoe pressing Demyx’s face hard against the ground. “I was thinking of granting you merciful death after mugging you clean, but I think I changed my mind just now.”

A sickeningly audible crunch was heard when Demyx’s nose met the ground. His nostrils and mouth pooled with thick, hot blood, dirt and tears on his face tainted in red. There was little left for Demyx to do, as he was flipped on his back. Pathetic attempt at landing few kicks on his assaulter was easily blocked as his legs were shoved apart, forcing him to face the emotionless gaze of a monster in disguise.

“Please”, a wheeze teared Demyx’s throat. “Don’t do this. I-I want to see my friends…”

“There it is. That’s what I like to see”, whispered the monster. It was a cruel mockery, the way his kind hands cradled Demyx’s bruised face. “You cry so beautifully.”

Buttons of his coat and shirt rained upon the stained snow, his gorgeous attire mercilessly ruined by the hands of a man, whom Demyx only few moments ago had seen as nothing but an attractive stranger he could have some harmless fun with. Demyx hated the sob that left his mouth, hated the tears of terror and pain falling freely on his face as he pinched his eyes shut. A sense of finality dawned on him, the fact that there was nothing left to do anymore causing his mind to shut down. A cold hand caressed along Demyx’s exposed skin, all the way down to fiddle at the front of his trousers…

When suddenly it wasn’t.

A weight was lifted from top of Demyx, soon followed by a scream so horrible it made his insides turn. He darted forward upon the cold hard ground, to see what had freed him from the hands of cold-blooded murderer. His sight landed to witness a scene that simply wasn’t meant for mortal eyes.

Few feet away from where Demyx pushed to sit up, just over the shadowed edge the moonlight couldn’t reach, he could make out two obscured shapes: The other one tossing and squirming, as it tried to fight someone, _something_ off of him. And failing miserably.

Not really feeling anything at all, Demyx stared numbly as the body before his eyes was torn apart. Blood spilled on the pure white snow generously, accompanied by the sounds of cloth tearing and skin slicing. Wine-dark liquid pooled from the shadows to the ashen light of the moon, and soon the howls of agony were no more but rattle of a dying man. A hand dropped to lay limply on the side of light. And then, all was silent.

Obeying his instincts, Demyx closed his eyes and dropped back to lay on the ground. Evenly, the crunch of frosty soil being stepped on started to approach him. He resisted a cough he could feel forming in his throat by the bleeding of his nose. No matter its damaged state, a sickening whiff of something sweet, like rotten meat snuck into his airways, and his stomach heaved with nausea. Effortlessly, his body was lifted from the ground.

Demyx didn’t dare to open his eyes. For he wasn’t certain at all, if his mind could take whatever he might see if he did.


	4. Remains of the Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said this would be done before the end of October? Turns out I was lying.

* * *

_ The night is darkening around me_

_ The wild winds coldly blow_

_ But a tyrant spell has bound me_

_ And I cannot, cannot go._

_The giant trees are bending _

_ Their bare boughs weighed with snow_

_The storm is fast descending_

_And yet I cannot go._

** _\- The Night is Darkening Around Me, Emily **Brontë**_**

_ ”What is taking so long? Why isn’t he awake yet?”_

_ “Patience, Mr Saïx. He is but a human after all. Any minute now, I’m certain–”_

_ “For your own sake, doctor, I really do hope that is the case.”_

_ “Oh, this is most exciting! He looks so soft…”_

Three voices, each more irritating than the other trespassed through Demyx’s unconsciousness. Despite the absurdness of the dialog he could distantly register, it was such a familiar thing to hear someone nagging at him in similar fashion, that for a moment Demyx thought he was somehow back at the estate.

_ But that can’t be right,_ reasoned a voice through the screeching sound harrowing his ears. _This doesn’t feel like home at all_.

_ What happened to me?_ Demyx tried grasping onto his memories, but the more he reached, the farther they seemed to drift away. Perhaps he should try opening his eyes, to make sense of his surroundings and ask the owners of these voices what all the fussing was about.

Reluctantly, Demyx opened his eyes. A stark-white flash of pain surged through his brain immediately as he did. It did tricks to his eyesight, making the world that greeted him appear like an abstract painting for a while.

_ “Look! He’s waking up”,_ someone chirped in bright, feminine voice, so close to Demyx’s face that his eyes blinked into focus by sheer surprise.

A girl, perhaps around sixteen years of age, dressed in black and white housemaid outfit, stared at him intently. Her curious eyes were startlingly huge, though their blue seemed to lack the warmth and liveliness one expected to find within the depths of a young maiden’s gaze. A pretty young thing, yet there was something very off about her. Demyx began to understand what as she waved a hand before his eyes: There was no skin to cover the delicate bones of her fingers!

“Pardon my poor manners, Milord”, she quickly backed from Demyx with an apologetic bow, probably under the impression that he appeared so distraught by her behavior rather than the disturbing details to her looks. “It isn’t every day that we are blessed with a guest, you see?”

With a shriek, Demyx darted up, floundering backwards upon the mattress he’d been laid, until his back was met with the wall. “W-w-what the f–!”

His eyes shifted wildly around the space surrounding him. It definitely wasn’t neither his bedroom at Count Eraqus’ estate nor the one at his mother’s place, that was for certain: It was as if someone had brushed all the colors from the room Demyx found himself in. Everything from the pearl-decorated chandelier, to the illustrations of famous religious myths on the walls looked dull and greyish, like a watercolor painting that’d been ruined with too much water.

The girl wasn’t alone, but with two other, equally unsettling individuals that’d gathered around the bed to stare at him.

A very tall and skinny middle-aged man with long hair adjusted the spectacles upon his sharp nose, examining Demyx like he was the most curious thing he’d ever seen. His skin looked ashen and bluish, his cheeks so hollow that one could have poured a drink in them. He reminded Demyx of those scary men in white coats, who had the power to decide whether one was out of it enough to be sent to spend the rest of their days in a mental institution. Even more so, when he summoned a quill and a bottle of ink seemingly out of nowhere and started to scribble something down on his notebook, while mumbling vaguely to himself. Next to him, a younger man with an enormous, nasty-looking scar taking his entire forehead scanned Demyx with his sharp eyes, brows furrowed in clear irritation.

He was also the first one to talk.

“Do calm down, Milord, for there is no need to go into hysterics”, he pronounced carefully. “We welcome you to the _Castle That Never Was_. I am Saïx, the head butler of this residence.” Though he bowed deeply and addressed Demyx accordingly, the way Mr Saïx measured him gave some reason to believe it was somewhat unpleasant for him to remain respectful towards Demyx. Then he beckoned in the direction of the strange housemaid and the tall, bony man. “These here are Xion and Doctor Vexen. We are to make sure you are in good health and properly prepared for your meeting with our Master.”

A small while of staring at Mr Saïx's distressingly expectant face, while trying his best to digest the things he’d just been told, Demyx could feel the throbbing in his head getting so bad it would surely explode before too long.

“I… With whom?”

“Are we sure this is him?” Mr Saix grunted through gritted teeth, shifting his icy glare towards the housemaid.

“Certainly, Mr Saïx”, she nodded with enthusiasm. Though she directed her words to him, her curious gaze remained on Demyx. “Master carried him here all the way from the land of the living. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“That man has a weird taste”, Mr Saïx muttered to himself. Then with a sigh, he clapped his hands together in commanding fashion and rose his voice. “Very well, on with it then. We are already severely behind our schedule. Doctor Vexen, you are dismissed. And Xion, show the Young Lord to bathing chambers and see that he makes it to the tailor. We absolutely _cannot_ have Master’s consort walking around the castle looking no better than a beggar! I don’t even want to imagine the courtiers seeing him like this…”

“Hold on for a second!” Demyx exclaimed, still quite lost on whether he felt more alerted by these strangers or offended they saw it appropriate to talk over his head like that. All three turned their attention back to him at once, as if startled to notice he was able to put together understandable sentences. “I-I can’t be anyone’s consort, I’m already married! My wife, she must be really worried…”

The farther Demyx searched through his scattered thoughts, the more he started to fear what he’d find among them.

And then he remembered.

The wedding, the night at the tavern, the pretty-faced monster luring him into the woods… it all came back to Demyx with such stunning force that he could feel his mind edging once again towards the sweet release of unconsciousness. “Am I-” he swallowed, not daring to think about the meaning of the words too much before voicing them out. “Am I dead?”

Mr Saïx looked very much like his patience had finally reached its peak, but before he could lash out, Doctor Vexen took the moment into his own hands. Stocking away the notes he’d been scribbling, he snapped his long fingers, and immediately a creature popped to his side. Demyx had never seen anything like it: It didn’t have a face, and its wildly wiggling body looked boneless and flabby.

“Would you be so good and fetch our new friend something to drink?” He asked the creature, very politely. It disappeared in a flash and was back again seconds after.

Demyx, utterly dumbstruck, couldn’t but accept the delicate porcelain cup and saucer that it handed him. The object felt warm in his cold hands, but the smell reaching to tickle at his nostrils was so horrid that it rose tears to his eyes. Still, he dared to take a sip of the liquid swirling there, and was surprised to note the taste wasn’t half as bad as he’d feared.

Absently he reached to feel his face with his other hand. It was only then that he noted the condition of his nose, that moments ago had been but a crushed, bloody mess, but now felt perfectly undamaged.

“Now, my boy, I want you to listen to me closely”, said the doctor, taking a seat by the bed. “But before that, I have to insist you remain calm, no matter what is it that you are about to hear. Are we in agreement here?”

Demyx nodded, never mind he was nowhere near sure if he’d be able to keep his promise.

And so the doctor began to speak, much like pronouncing the opening lines of a particularly disturbing good night’s story: “Some time ago in the forest, a young man fell on his knees and proposed to a dead man. During his time among the living, this man was known as Xigbar, a war general who fell from grace and took his own life. The young man spoke his vows beautifully, and it moved the general so deeply, that he wished to bring this brave man here to his realm and make him his own, so the curse would be finally lifted, and all the accursed ones freed at last.”

“Ah”, was all Demyx could offer. His head spun and thoughts stormed as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. “Wait, you mean… _the Mad General!_ He really does exist?”

He felt lightheaded just by voicing such possibility. Demyx was half certain, that in reality he was still in that forest, passed out in a heap of snow and dying slowly. This madness that he’d woken up to, the living-dead people and strange creatures around him were probably nothing but a hallucination: Soon he would freeze to death, and his brain would finally shut off and grant him peace.

“Indeed”, the doctor said with a wince. “But I recommend you don’t make a habit of calling him that. You might be his _One_, but he does not take kindly to anyone who dares to insult him like that.” A look of uneasiness spread upon the man’s bony features as he wondered about his next words. “I believe it would be fair to let you know, after all. The general, you see, at times he can be…”

“We don’t have time for this”, Mr Saïx interfered with a snarl. “Did I not make myself clear, doctor? You are dismissed!”

Demyx could swear he saw the air around him getting static and strange, his blue hair blistering like fur of a ferocious canine. The girl flinched lightly, taking few wary steps back, but Doctor Vexen didn’t seem as impressed and dared to even roll his eyes at the display.

Then, a bell rang from somewhere. Hollow and booming.

Immediately, the ominous air surrounding Mr Saïx was gone. He seemed to even shrink in size a bit where he stood, as his unsettling features twisted in alarm. “The courtiers”, he said grimly, adjusting his old-fashioned, neatly tailored outfit that Demyx knew had been considered fashionable among servants some hundred years ago. “I must go see them inside right away. Xion, if you would be so kind…?”

The girl nodded, saluting with her hand and posing like a soldier taking orders from her higher ups. “Leave everything to me, Mr Saïx!”

Mr Saïx heaved a long sigh with a shake of his head, but apparently the matter requesting his presence was urgent enough that he had no choice but to trust in her words. With a brief nod at Demyx and a final, menacing glare towards the doctor, he exited the room, graceful as he went, never mind the sense of urgency to his swift steps.

Doctor Vexen followed him soon, but before going out the door, he stopped to grant a look at Demyx. A smile drew upon his thin face, one which truthful meaning Demyx failed to recognize.

“I wish you luck, my young friend. God knows, you’ll be needing plenty of it”, said the doctor, leaving Demyx and the housemaid alone in the room.

She turned to Demyx, sickeningly ashen face brightened with gentle smile. She may have looked off-putting and grim, but it was hard to be scared of someone who seemed so kind. “Will you be able to walk?”

Demyx wasn’t too sure about that. If he could, surely he would have escaped moments ago. Warily, he allowed his feet to test the ground, but couldn’t bring himself to accept the skinless hand offered towards him. “I-I believe so.”

“That’s good”, said Xion. “Follow me, Milord. We haven’t got much time to spare.”

⚰ ⚰ ⚰

Xion led Demyx out of the gloomy room, to tread along just as gloomy corridor. A surprised gasp flew his mouth, and his heart jumped by the sight of his new surroundings: It really wasn’t just any ordinary estate he’d been brought to, but in fact an actual castle!

The towering stone-walls reached impossibly high above, so the ceiling was utterly undetectable within the impervious darkness. But if one really squinted their eyes, it almost looked as if tiny, mysterious specks of light blinked from up there. Lanterns illuminated the desolated corridor, their flickering flames robbed from bursting shades of red, painting the walls in eerily greenish hue. It was enough to help Demyx see the path ahead, but failed to bring any real light in their wake. Armor suit statues stood in stiff lines along both walls, helmet-covered heads turning ever so slightly as they were walked past.

There were hundreds of questions running through Demyx’s head; like where exactly was everyone else, or the general himself? Who were those c_ourtiers_ Mr Saïx had been in such hurry to serve?

He couldn’t make his mouth spill out any of those, however, as Xion soon came into stop by one of the many wooden doors along the corridor, causing Demyx to almost bump into her back.

“In you go, Milord”, she told him cheerfully, opening the door for Demyx. “The water should be just the right temperature. I do not wish to hurry you, but please do so anyway.”

Demyx couldn’t but stutter a few pathetic _but’s_ and _wait a_ _minute’s_, as he was herded inside by the strange housemaid. Where he found himself this time appeared to be a dressing room. A fireplace was lit at the back of the room, murmuring and crackling soothingly. Though its flames looked but a caricature of the real thing, they seemed to radiate some warmth into the chilly air.

There was an ominous element to the paintings hanging from the walls, for the characters portrayed in them didn’t even attempt to be subtle in the way they examined Demyx. One elderly gentleman in exceptionally humongous, powder-white wig even lifted his opera glasses to his nose while he ogled, and a herd of children from enormous landscape painting rushed closer so it almost looked they’d fall over the frame. It felt a little of what walking down the aisle in his wedding did, with all the curious eyes watching closely as he crossed the room, to fetch a bathrobe that was neatly folded upon the hand rest of a rococo-style couch. At least some of the young maidens had the decency to cover their eyes without specifically being asked to, as Demyx started undressing his properly torn clothes.

The bathing chambers were revealed from behind the door at the other end of the room. At a one corner, in an alcove there stood what looked to be an oversized cauldron. Warily, Demyx stepped closer to it, arms securely hugging his shivering body: It was way too chilly to be standing and wondering too long if he dared to dip into the strangely colored, foaming liquid that bubbled there. He let the robe fall to the floor, hoisting one foot to touch the surface of what he hoped was just water. It felt warm, just on the borderline of being uncomfortably hot. With a long, approving sigh, Demyx sank into the tub shoulders deep, and leaned his head back against the edge of it. The water smelled good too, fresh and spicy like the herbs that grew in the greenhouse back at home.

He reached to feel his face again. Fingertips caressing the bridge of his nose, Demyx could recall the pain there so vividly, see himself bleeding and struggling for his life, deep within the moonlit forest. All hope lost, praying the death would claim him before the hurt became too much to handle…

And the next thing he knew, he woke up in the realm of deceased, about to fulfill a vow he’d made to a dead man.

Demyx swallowed down a sob forming in his throat. He couldn’t afford freaking out now, never mind how strongly his mind urged him to do so.

A demanding ring of bell was heard yet again, the dull sound of it bouncing about the chambers. Demyx quickly finished with his bathing, though he wouldn’t have liked anything better than keep soaking in there a while longer.

⚰ ⚰ ⚰

The journey continued soon down a dangerously spiraling staircase, that seemed to go on forever and ever. Yet descending them was far from being boring, for there were many peculiar things to behold on their way: The intimidating stonewalls were draped with tall stained-glass windows with some rather grotesque illustrations of what Demyx concluded were supposed to portray the Second War. He could swear he heard them too, for suddenly his ears flooded with frantic whispers of terror and pain, the roaring of greedy flames adding to the hushed cacophony.

Squads of wiggly creatures, such as the one who’d brought Demyx tea some moments ago, could be spotted along the stairwell: Some of them heading purposefully in either direction, and few seemed to be in the middle of cleaning up the staircase. Trembling movements and unnatural positions they were able to bend in filled Demyx with slightest sense of repulsion.

“It’s a bit unseemly to have the Master’s consort walking around dressed in a bathing robe”, said Xion as soon as they finally landed at the end of the stairs, “but don’t worry, we’ve made sure no one else will see you before you’ve been presented to him. Also, our tailor is a very skillful man. I’m certain he has the loveliest outfit waiting for you already.”

“So”, Demyx started unsurely, deciding it wasn’t convenient to get too worked up over the fact that he wasn’t given any other choice but consent to everything the walking corpses told him. “The general, your Master, he is the one in charge of this place?”

“That is correct. Very observant of you, Milord.”

“Then what about you and those other…?” Demyx wanted to say _people _but for some reason the word didn’t make it off his tongue.

“We are here to serve him until the spell gets undone. When the Master died, the curse upon him was so powerful that it affected the whole area and everyone who died on the same land”, Xion told all this in cheerful tone. “You see, this is why we are so very grateful to finally have you here, Milord. It is all thanks to you that we’re soon to be freed!”

“Xion, wait”, Demyx hurried to seize the girl’s shoulders. “Listen, there’s been a big mistake. I don’t understand any of this, and most likely this is nothing but a crazy hallucination I’m having whilst being brutally murdered. But if it isn’t, and if you or anyone else here knows a way to go back, I need you to let me know. I absolutely cannot stay here!”

“But... you _did_ propose to the general?” Said Xion, big round eyes widening in confusion so much that Demyx was afraid they would drop off their sockets.

“I did, yes, that much is true”, he rambled, starting to get a little desperate. “But to tell you the truth, I wasn’t being entirely serious about it. I never thought something like this would actually happen! What happened in the forest, it was… it was only a…”_ Joke,_ the word hovered on his tongue, but Demyx couldn’t bring himself to say it. Shame bubbled in his stomach as he watched the expression on Xion’s face dropping by every word that he uttered.

“...mistake.”

“I see”, said Xion after a while, as if realizing something that’d been quite obvious, yet greatly inconvenient. She cast her face awkwardly aside. “He won’t be happy to learn this. From what I’ve heard, Master has been really looking forward meeting you properly.”

“Has he now?”

“Well, of course”, She insisted, looking a little weirded that Demyx dared to even question such thing. “The rumor has it, that he's been talking of nothing but you ever since your arrival at his old estate in the land of the living. It was love at first sight, they say, and our dear Master, so hopelessly smitten, was certain that the curse would be finally broken. That you would be the one to help him do it.”

“Oh.”

The general too had been thinking of him?

Recalling all those days Demyx had been unable to chase his own thoughts away from him, of all those nights he’d stared at his portrait, sighing and pining after the man staring from there, only to eventually retire to his bed, where he would take the twisted fantasy to a whole new level. Could it be that he hadn’t harbored those feelings in vain, after all? That this obsession, spreading inside him like a disease, had been caused by the general himself?

His insides clenched as he thought back about the night his doomed desires had finally taken the unlucky turn, when the ground had vanished from under his feet, nearly devouring him into the stomach of darkness. Perhaps the general was mad at Demyx for it, what with him first proposing and then backing away like the coward he was, and was merely waiting to have his revenge…

“It is perfectly normal to feel a little lost in the face of a change such as this. But do know, that we will be here to help you along the way.” Xion stepped daringly close to him as she spoke. Demyx had half a mind to correct the _little lost_ part, for he pretty much felt as he suspected the little lady from that children’s story did, when she fell down the rabbit hole, and found herself in this bizarre world, where everything was upside-down and inside-out. “The curse will be undone in no time, I just know it!”

“But how! What am I even supposed to do?” Demyx retorted. “I keep telling you, I am not the right person for-“

And the bell rang again. Loud and urgent. The sound of it seemed to bring Xion back to their task at hand.

“Oh! There’s not much time left! Come now, Milord, the tailor awaits us.”

They reached the doors to the tailor’s quarters soon. Xion knocked at the door, and almost immediately after her knuckles landed on it, it was wrenched open, revealing such an unexpected sight that Demyx couldn’t help staring, though it was far from being good manners: The tailor was a stunningly beautiful man with an undeniably graceful air to him. His hair was of strikingly pink color, and his heavily powdered face and rouged cheeks made him look like a porcelain doll. Rose vines with dangerously sharp thorns circled his wrists and neck like precious jewelry. If one ignored all the unsettling details to his appearance, he was a perfect picture of what fashionable noblemen used to look few centuries back, in his puffy cravat and knee-high stockings that certainly weren’t lacking lace nor ribbons.

“Children in my quarters”, he drawled in soft, pleasant voice, that was a weird mixture of sweetness and clear desire to commit a homicide. “I fear I haven’t got the time to play any games with you, dearies. Master’s consort is to arrive at any minute to be dressed and I must be at my sharpest!”

“Well, here he is”, Xion announced, ushering a very reluctant Demyx to step forward from where he’d been cowering behind her back. “Mr Marluxia, I present you Lord Demyx, the man who pledged his life to our Master.”

“Goodness gracious! You are certain of this, my dear?”

“Very much so.”

“Allow me”, Mr Marluxia snatched Demyx by the arm and brought him for closer inspection. Grey, lifeless eyes calculated him for what felt like small eternity. Then, something Demyx definitely hadn’t anticipated happened: A wide smile drew on his powdered face as he clasped both hands on Demyx’s cheeks. “But of course you are! How silly of me to suspect otherwise. Looks aren’t everything after all, now are they? I am certain there are other praiseworthy attributes that helped you caught the Master’s eye…”

_ “Excuse me?”_ Demyx exclaimed, swatting Mr Marluxia’s ice-cold hands from squeezing his face. Was there no end to this madness? Being the only child of a noble family, his mother and older relatives often gave Demyx a hard time, but the kind of ridicule and humiliation that he’d endured within past few hours was just absurd!

“I guess I can understand the appeal”, the tailor pondered out loud, completely ignoring Demyx’s outrage. “You look cute in a way little piglets do."

“I do not look like a-!”

“Ah. A fierce one, too. So _full of life_, shall we say?”

Demyx didn’t have the time to properly confront the tailor's vulgar behavior, as he was already dragged inside the wide dressing room, entirely occupied by seas of colorful fabric scattering the floor and pretty much the surface of every upholstered furniture. A pair of similar creatures from earlier were fussing around a mannequin that was dressed in possibly one of the most gorgeous attires Demyx had yet seen: A beautifully tailored, royal-blue velvet coat, embroidered with a fine golden pattern, to go with a white shirt, golden waistcoat and a laced cravat. Mr Marluxia hauled him in front of a large mirror, and very plainly commanded him to hurry up and strip off the bathrobe, so they could try and see whether the outfit was the right size for Demyx.

“You want me to… I mean, right now?”

“Dearie, this is no time to act shy. We don’t want the Master to chop off our heads for keeping you too long.” Mr Marluxia clicked his tongue judgingly at Demyx’s reluctance.

With a snap of his fingers, few of the creatures popped immediately to peel Demyx from his robe. He made an attempt at shooing them away, but soon concluded putting up a fight would be but a waste of energy. At least his audience had the courtesy to turn around and engage in a conversation while he was being crammed into his new clothes.

Back home, Demyx never had a dresser of his own, which meant that usually getting ready took some time for him. So, right now he was quite in awe as the creatures successfully molded him into a rather presentable sight within few minutes. He twirled in front of the mirror, admiring the long tail and flouncy sleeves of the coat cascading about him like wings of butterfly. The outfit made him think of the extravagant royals of past, who lived in beautiful palaces made of gold and led the kind of lifestyle that was considered quite immoral nowadays.

“Oh, this is just marvelous!” Proclaimed Mr Marluxia, causing Demyx to jump. “It’s almost like I’m home again. Good old days those were, back when beauty was still appreciated, and one could tell the difference between an errand boy and nobleman…” He said this with a hint of wistfulness, but his handsome face quickly lit up again as he kept twirling Demyx around in his hands and studying the end result. “Isn’t it a wonder what a proper outfit can do?”

“Y-yes, I guess it does look nice”, piped Demyx, not exactly daring to challenge the tailor when his nose was but inches away from his own. “I’ve certainly never seen anything like it.”

Demyx's answer seemed to please Mr Marluxia. He practically beamed down at the flustered nobleman as he twittered in utmost delight. “I have a good feeling about him, Xion! Perhaps this one will be successful, after all. Perhaps he won’t get his heart e-“

A loud crash sounded as the porcelain teacup and saucer Xion had been holding slipped from her, smashing onto the floor. “I am so, very sorry, Mr Marluxia”, she placed a hand before her mouth in mortfication, looking down at the smithereens at her feet. “Do forgive my clumsiness.”

“No need to fret about that, my dear. The Dusks will see it clean. I hated those despicable things anyway”, Mr Marluxia shrugged lightly. “But I do believe you two must be on your way now. The Master isn't known for his patience!”

He then shooed Demyx and Xion towards the doorway. Before pretty much pushing them out the room, he caught Demyx’s shoulders and leaned to speak next to his ear. “Just try to make sure he won’t tear the clothing too badly. That fabric is very precious, you see?”

_“Mr Marluxia!”_ Xion gasped, a scandalized frown on her face as she rescued Demyx from his hold. “The Master is a man of honor and will do no such thing!”

“Never underestimate the power of fashion, my dear”, Mr Marluxia tittered against the back of his hand. “Well, then. I wish you the best of luck, Lord Edym.”

“It’s Demyx”, Demyx mumbled, which had the tailor giggling even more gleefully.

“Precisely”, he purred with a shameless wink of his eye.

⚰ ⚰ ⚰

Once again, Demyx and Xion were off, treading along the never-ending corridors of the castle. Everything had happened in such demanding pace, that it was only then that the anxiety truly caught up with Demyx: The time to meet the general was but few moments away!

Not only did it feel spectacularly surreal, but alarming too. All those weeks that he’d spend daydreaming about the general, he never actually thought it would come to this, that he would soon witness the embodiment of his fantasies coming true right in front of him.

“You two! There you are”, Mr Saix skipped to them with hurry to his steps. If possible, he appeared even more stressed out than before: His blue hair looked positively disheveled, like he’d ran his fingers through it multiple times, the permanent frown on his terrifying face grave as ever. “What kept you so long?”

“My apologies, Mr Saix. This is all very new to Lord Demyx, and I didn’t wish to rush him too much”, explained Xion.

It seemed Mr Saix wasn’t the sort of man to offer his sympathies too freely, and merely eyed her with a glare so hostile, that were it directed at Demyx, he’d surely crumble from the weight of it in no time. “Well, at least the Consort is looking somewhat presentable”, he finally sighed, massaging his scarred forehead with his fingers. “Your job here is done for the time being, Xion. You are free to take your leave now.”

A polite bow of her head and quick, encouraging smile toward Demyx, before Xion excused herself, disappearing somewhere along the many corridors. After she was out of sight, Mr Saïx signaled Demyx to follow after him. In no time, he was showed inside what appeared to be a surprisingly pleasant dining room nearby the root of the staircase, where a large table was already fully set: Full of trays with colorful courses of heavenly aromatic dishes, and bottles of fine dark wine.

“The Master and his courtiers will arrive at any minute now”, Mr Saïx informed, tone icy as ever as he held the door for Demyx. “You may wait for them here.”

“You’re going to leave me alone?” Demyx gulped, feeling very small and lost all of a sudden. It wasn’t like Mr Saix’s intimidating presence was making him feel any more at ease, but the thought of being left to his own devices wasn’t a pleasant one either.

The expression on Mr Saix’s face wrinkled in distaste. “You wish me to hold your hand?”

“Well”, Demyx grimaced, quickly casting his eyes down to avoid the glare aimed at him. “I sort of thought someone would be here to perform the introductions…”

Mr Saix inspected him in such unimpressed way that Demyx could feel his face catching color. Finally, with a pained sigh, he strode to pull up a chair for Demyx at the end of the dinner table and sat him there, paying no mind to any halfhearted protests. “Just sit here, look decent and try to come across at least somewhat tolerable.” That said, he quickly headed to exit the room before Demyx had the chance to make a scene.

It was right then that it all crashed down on him.

One of the attributes of an honorable gentleman was his ability to be truthful and stand by his words. Demyx knew this, but at the end of the day, keeping the oath he’d made to the general was simply too much. He couldn’t do this, no one in their right mind could. As far as he knew, there was still a heart within his chest, pumping blood and keeping him going. Demyx was still breathing, and the realm of dead hardly seemed like a right place to be for a man who was still alive.

And what of his matrimony to Aqua, the promise he’d made to her? No matter the complicated nature of their relationship, Demyx was still legally her husband. Surely it had to weigh more than this heinous fever-dream of a farce he’d woken up to!

There had to be some way to get away from this place. He would just need to calm down for a minute and think this properly through…

_ “-And I assume everything went as planned?” _

Demyx was brought back from his thoughts as a muffled voice carried from behind the door. His heart throbbed as it reached his ears, for he knew immediately who it belonged to: It was the same gruesome creature that’d called from the pit of darkness that almost swallowed him, who tore a man into puddle of blood and gore right in front of his eyes.

_“Correct, Sir”_, answered Mr Saix’s voice. _“He seems like… quite a funny young man.” _

_“Well, I should know that. I was the one who brought him here, wasn’t I?” _

_“What of the courtiers, Sir?”_ Said Mister Saïx, unmoved by the snappy remark. _“You’re not going to invite them to-“_

_“We talked about this, Saïx. I am not obligated to report my every move to those cunning pieces of shits.” _

_ “With all due respect, Sir, you are. The contract was quite clear about that one.” _

_“Want me to tell where exactly you can shove those unneeded inputs of yours?”_

The conversation edged towards and argument in this fashion for quite a while, and still no one had entered the room. That was enough time for Demyx to recover from his frozen state. He didn’t allow his mind to even start second-guessing, before ducking under the table, behind the safety that the long tablecloth provided. His movement was abrupt enough, that he could feel his new precious outfit stretching dangerously and even let out an alarming sound on its seams.

The door flew open at the exact moment, in unnecessarily dramatic manner. Heavy footsteps followed. Demyx slapped both his hands before his mouth and pinched his eyes shut, fully aware that he was doomed for good. He wasn’t even sure why he’d done something so foolish: The general was going to find him any second now, and when he did, he would probably think it tremendously upsetting that Demyx was trying to hide away from him.

_ “Well?”_ The last bits of good humor abandoned the general’s voice as he growled. _“Where is he?”_

_ “Most peculiar. He was right here but a moment ago.” _

_“I am warning you, Mr Saix, my patience is on a very thin ice right now…”_

Demyx had a difficult time following the exchange between the general and Mr Saix, for he was way too shaken to do that. Crouching there under the table, hands clasped on his mouth, all he was able to do was sit on his bum and scream internally. He should’ve learned by now to expect the unexpected in this peculiar castle, but absolutely nothing could have prepared him for the surprise that fell upon him next.

Something wet and cold touched Demyx’s ear from behind, causing him to tense so suddenly that his head hit the bottom of the table above him. Hastily he turned around and was met with two enormous eyes of what he assumed was a very strange-looking dog. He couldn’t properly distinct its features in the dim lighting, but it looked to be of unnatural, purple color. A big, bulky thing, with a face so ugly that Demyx felt a little sorry for the creature. Enormous, pink tongue lolled of its mouth as it panted and drooled in excitement.

For what felt the longest time, Demyx and the creature stared at each other. Or at least Demyx thought its crazed eyes were focused on him, though he couldn’t be entirely sure about that. He extended his hand and opened his mouth unsurely, ready to persuade the creature that everything was alright, that there was absolutely no reason to cause ruckus.

Then it started to bark.

Demyx surged forward to grasp its snout in order to quiet it down, to no use it seemed, for the act merely excited the creature even more. It started fussing and bouncing around Demyx, clearly thinking this was an invitation to engage in a game of some sort.

_“Baxter, is that you?”_ Boomed the general’s voice right above the table. _“Where the hell have you been, you ugly bastard! I’ve been looking for you everywhere…”_

The tablecloth was lifted, letting a shred of hollow light to billow upon Demyx.

Crouched on one knee, holding the fabric up and staring Demyx with a blank expression, was the Mad General himself. Handsome as ever, though he looked a little different than in the embellished portrait back at Count Eraqus’ estate.

Where the other one of his golden eyes should have shone was now covered with a black eye-patch. His face was scarred and beaten, and strands of grey mingled within his dazzling ebony locks pulled back in a long ponytail. For a man who’d been dead for nearly a century, there was something strangely wild and lively to his imposing figure.

Then, a smile appeared to stretch the general’s harsh face. Feral and off-putting as it was, Demyx thought it must have been the most captivating thing he’d had the privilege to witness.

“I can’t believe it”, Demyx whispered, not even realizing it was his own voice producing the words. “You really are here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was basically my excuse to include Marluxia as a fabulous Rococo era gentleman. What an aesthetic!
> 
> For those who wonder, Baxter is my Heartless oc and he looks like this: https://www.khwiki.com/Rabid_Dog 
> 
> He's made an appearance in my other story too :)


End file.
